Forget Me Not
by BunnyKat
Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.
1. Prelude

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Nope, I sincerely do not own this.

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

A/N: Against my better judgment I am going to start posting this now. It's not all the way done, but I have a very precise outline made up. Also, it won't be update as quickly as Connecting Roses was, but I am going to aim for a week by week update. It's good to have goals in life, yeah? :)

* * *

_Read between the lines_

_Of what's fucked up and everything's alright_

_Check my vital signs to know I'm still alive_

_And I walk alone._

_~ Boulevard of Broken Dreams; Green Day_

Prelude

Standing at the doors in her sunny sitting room, Angela clicked the handle to swing them open so she might step into the equally bright hall. A small whimper caused her to look up the staircase to see Claire smiling broadly, holding a small bundle in her arms. Dressed in faded denim and a white top her granddaughter glided down the steps, her attention focused on the item in the white blanket she held. Once she reached the bottom her attention turned to Angela.

"Isn't she lovely?" asked the blonde, holding up the bundle. A corner of the blanket flipped back to reveal the face of a baby, no more than a few days old. Angela's hand touched her chest as she was inexplicably affected by the small child.

As Claire adjusted the infant to cradle to her, the great-grandmother felt the corners of her lips lift. After all the pain and lies and losses, this family was finally getting another chance for a happy, peaceful future. The young woman continued to beam as she took a finger and tapped the baby's nose.

The figure of a tall man suddenly showed up behind Claire and Angela found herself unable to move. She froze when a gasp caught in her throat as Sylar walked up behind the unsuspecting girl. Dressed in a white button up shirt and light khakis he slid to stand behind Claire, placing his hands on her shoulders. His attention was on the infant, putting forth as much smiling attention to her as Claire was. The blonde never looked up to see who held her, apparently comforted by his presence.

Clouds appeared to roll in and the sunny hallway became dark. Angela was still unable to move, but she managed to let out cry of warning towards her granddaughter. The lights in the hallway flickered on and off rapidly causing her to not be able to see what was happening in front of her.

Eventually the lights resumed, significantly dimmer, and Angela collapsed to her knees in horror. Claire now slumped against the wall, her blood streaking the paint and tiles on the floor. Red pooled out from around her and her white clothes were torn and stained beyond recognition. Her face was smeared with fresh blood, jaw slack and eyes glazed over, dead to the world.

Sylar, now dressed head to toe in black, stood looking down at Claire. In his arms he held the infant and the white blanket was covered in bloody stains. Angela could not interpret the blank gaze on his face as he turned and walked out the door.

Jerking awake, Angela let out a small yelp as her hand flew to her chest in a useless attempt to slow her heartbeat. In an attempt to gain her bearings, her head turned from side to side to observe her surroundings. She was safe in her apartment having fallen asleep in an oversized chair reading.

Glancing at her watch she stood to ask for the car to be prepared.

It was definitely time to pay her granddaughter a visit.


	2. Chapter 1

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Nope, not at all mine.

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

A/N: So, had to share; I saw Lady Gaga in concert this week while she was on her Monster Ball Tour. A total life changing experience, I _still _feel like I am floating. Words cannot express how utterly wonderful it was. 8-D Okay, I'm good, now off to the fic…

* * *

_The faces all around me they don't smile they just crack  
Waiting for our ship to come, but our ships not coming back  
We do our time like pennies in a jar  
What are we saving for?_

_~Believe; The Bravery_

Chapter 1

Miles away at the Sullivan Bros Carnival, Sylar sat straight up in his bed with quick breaths. Sliding off to the side he looked in the mirror and inspected his face. Everything looked normal, he supposed. Taking both hands he rubbed his face vigorously to get some sort of memory back that was _his_ mind. Ever since Damian had touched his mind everything that had been that other man had completely disappeared. And all Sylar was stuck with was the visions of those he had murdered. And the memory that it had felt so good.

He shuddered and pushed away the accompanying nausea. A small part of him was comforted at the thought that he hadn't killed Captain Lubbock. Granted he had wanted to, then proceeded to electrocute the man, and stood there as Edgar finished the job; but he had not been the one to murder him.

Grabbing a stray plaid shirt Sylar left his trailer. Seeing the backs of Samuel and Lydia as they huddled together, he strode to greet them morning. When the pair slipped out of sight behind a curtain he caught up enough to overhear their conversation and what he heard made him freeze.

"Your quick fix assassin hasn't turned out to be such a quick fix," came Lydia's voice.

"Damian removed the memories of this Nathan and tried to awaken those of Sylar, specifically of his hunger." It sounded as though Samuel threw a rag against a table before sighing. "It's just taking more time than I would have hoped."

"He couldn't kill the Captain, what makes you think he could go out in the world and pull the figurative trigger on another person?"

"Because at his core he is a killer, you showed me that. You just wait, Sylar will be our assassin yet." Samuel cleared his throat, "Now let's see what you have to show me today."

Sylar stumbled backwards, getting away as fast as possible without drawing any attention to himself. Stuck in a numb shock he barely registered as other Carnival members greeting him a good morning. For the second time that morning he felt physically ill, stumbling to the edge of their encampment he dry heaved into a nearby trashcan. With a shaky arm he cleared off his mouth and couldn't but wonder; were they right? Was his only purpose in life to be a killer?

He couldn't be, decided Sylar. He would do everything in his power to not kill again, his hands had already claimed enough lives. But staying here he wouldn't be able to fulfill his own promise. Looking up into the sky, Sylar suddenly felt himself up in the air and flying away. To where, he did not know. But it was bound to be better for him than here.

X~ X~ X~

Claire opened one of her cardboard boxes to extract a pair of black pumps. Checking the clock she decided there was enough time to put the shoes in the bottom of her closet. She set the box in front of the door and looked around her new bedroom. This room alone was bigger her dorm had been with the Queen sized bed fitting comfortably as evidence. There were only a handful of boxes left sitting around to be unpacked in the apartment.

Following Gretchen's departure and eventual drop out, Claire couldn't stand to keep living in her dorm room. In such a short time it was already too full of negative memories. To her surprise, it hadn't taken much to convince her parents that moving into an apartment off campus was a good choice. Less than a week ago she had moved into a furnished apartment with a bed and armoire for the bedroom; coffee table, a few chairs, a generous sized television, and a couch in the sitting room; a bathroom with a rather large tub; and a kitchen with top of the line appliances and a smaller table to eat at.

The niceties that had been included made Claire absolutely certain that her birth father's side had financially provided the room, not that she had a problem with it in the long run. Coming straight from the college dorm all Claire really had to move in were her clothes, books, and a handful of personal items she brought with her in the first place.

One of her parents conditions was she had to maintain an active social life in campus activities, which meant she still had to participate in sorority events and interact with her campus mates. Which was the reason she was preparing to attend yet another mixer at the moment. One of the functions for this week involved getting to know a few fraternity pledges to expand their own personal social network. Claire was fine with using Facebook for such means, but she knew she could put aside her own feeling about the ridiculous idea if she was allowed to keep her sweet new apartment.

Finishing her task, Claire slipped on the pumps with one hand and picked up her makeup bag with the other. With a sigh she headed to the bathroom when there was a knock from the front room. Furrowing her brow she hurried to open the door. "Angela?"

"Hello, Claire," she greeted with a flat, polite smile. "May I come in?"

"Uh, yeah," she agreed standing aside, still surprised by the unexpected visit. As the dark haired woman entered the apartment with a few inspecting head turns, a wrapped package was handed to Claire.

"A housewarming present," she explained before the question could be posed.

"Um, thank you…."

"It's a crystal serving bowl," she once again elaborated, her attention still on her surroundings. After glancing over the room a moment more she turned to face her. "I have to say I approve of the wall color."

Before any of her stuff had been moved in, Claire had spent the day painting the walls in the sitting room from an unbearable white to a warm tan and to a pale brown in her bedroom. "Thanks," she repeated. "My next door neighbor, Sweetie, helped. She's a nice older lady." Caught off guard by the compliment and surprise visit, Claire closed her mouth and set the present on the table. "I'm actually going to leave in a few minutes…"

"Oh I won't be long," Angela assured, hands coming to rest in front of her. "I just wanted to make sure you were settling in well." She nodded hesitantly, positive there was another reason Angela would have traveled in person from New York with no heads up. Another polite smile curved her red lips. "That's good."

Claire smiled back and began to walk to the bathroom with her bag to apply her makeup. Sensing that Angela was following, she said, "Not to sound rude, but a phone call would have done fine. Then you wouldn't have had to come all this way."

"There is another reason I came in person," she confessed. Claire looked at her in the mirror as she brushed on her foundation. "I need to know what happened between you and Sylar in the Stanton."

Claire nearly dropped her brush as the air sucked out as though she had been punched in the gut. What brought this on? So she asked.

"I had a dream involving you and Sylar," explained Angela, "and I need to know if there were any sexual interactions between the two of you."

"What? No!" she exclaimed, whirling to face the older woman. "Absolutely not!"

"Are you absolutely positive?" Angela's face was creased in worry as she interrogated. "You mentioned that he had control over your actions, perhaps he forced himself on you, wiped your memory afterwards?"

Claire couldn't help it as she laughed as she shook her head. "No, I mean he basically offered, but in a sick way he was hoping I would go to him willingly." Returning to the mirror she worked on her face as she continued, "Besides, he would have wanted me to remember a traumatic event like that." Involuntarily, Claire shuddered in disgust.

"I'm sorry, but I need to be sure." Digging into the black bag she held on her shoulder, she extracted a pregnancy test box and handed it to Claire. "I need you to take the test."

"No way," she retorted, once again laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. "I am most definitely _not_ pregnant."

"I am not going to leave until I know," Angela bargained, still holding the white and purple box out.

Letting out a groan of disapproval, Claire accepted the test and slammed the door in her grandmother's face. Several minutes later she exited with a made up face and a white stick. Angela was sitting patiently in a chair, looking quite comfortable. Claire envied her ability to appear in control of every moment no matter if she had the upper hand or not. Handing over the pregnancy test, she said, "Negative. I told you I wasn't pregnant."

"Good," she sighed, studying the red negative sign with a furrowed brow. Angela breathed somewhat easier. "Good," she stated again, "but if you do come across Sylar again –"

"He's dead," Claire interrupted with absolute certainty. "We stood there at Coyote Sands and watched his body burn."

Lips pressed impossibly tight, a pale Angela choked out an, "Of course."

"Look," she assured kneeling down to take her grandmother's hands. "Whatever you dreamed must mean something completely different or maybe it was just a normal dream."

Angela gave her a deadpanned look, "I appreciate your input, dear, but I've had my gift long enough to know what a normal dream is and what isn't one."

Worry gripped at her stomach at the brisk response and Claire leaned to catch her eye. "He is dead, isn't he?"

"Of course, dear," she repeated after a pause, one that did not put Claire's worries at ease. The older woman patted her hands and stood indicating the conversation was done.

As she headed towards the door Claire followed, "Are you going to be alright?"

She opened the door. "Carrying on, that's what we are all so good at; the art of deception combined with plastered smiles. And perhaps if we're lucky, through the faking happiness we will actually find some relief."

Claire nodded slowly, a bit depressed because she understood perfectly. "So, is that a maybe?"

Angela settled on a relaxed, sad smile. "Just remember the sins of the father are always paid by the children." Angela touched Claire's cheek gently as her eyes misted over, "And I am so sorry for what we have done that you will deal with." Dropping her hand she cleared her throat, "Just be careful, Claire."

X~ X~ X~

It was well after 1am when Claire began to walk back to her apartment. She carried the black pumps in her hand and walked along the sidewalk barefoot. It wasn't that they were hurting her feet, as she could no longer feel pain, the walk home may have ruined them and any stone or glass she stepped on wouldn't bother her bare feet. The streets were eerily quiet for a Saturday night, even for so late.

The mixer had been enjoyable for the most part, but maintaining the plastered smile that Angela mentioned earlier had proved draining. All Claire wanted was a long hot bath, her fluffy white robe, and to crawl into her large bed; perhaps without pajamas. The high thread count did feel good on her bare skin, perhaps this would be a night without clothes to properly enjoy it.

A plan fully formed in her mind, Claire opted to cut down a few alleyways to get back home faster. Though the street lights did not reach down the dark pathway, the moon was plenty fully enough to light her way. Glancing down at her green party dress she saw that it heavily reflected the moonlight. As she walked, she smoothed out an imaginary crease and completely missed as a dark figure unexpectedly shot around the corner. He crashed into her and Claire felt to the ground with an, "Oomph." She felt her knees and left arm get scrapped up, but begin to heal rapidly.

"I'm sorry," rushed the man, "I – I don't know what's – I'm not exactly sure where – I mean…" He stopped his nonsense speaking to brush his dark hair back with shaky hands in an attempt to clear his head.

Anything he said was lost on Claire as she remained on the ground gaping at the man in front of her. Her throat had closed up the moment she saw him, her body frozen in disbelief. He was there in an open plaid shirt with a white undershirt and jeans. His clothing and face were messy with dirt as though he had been traveling around for quite some time with no rest.

She shut her eyes tight to get her thoughts together and her vocal chords working again. Maybe this was her imagination, maybe it wasn't him, maybe nobody was even really there. Her hopes were proved false as his warm hand settled on her shoulder. Eyes flying open, but still too stunned to move, Claire saw him kneeling before her concern written on his face. "Are you alright? I didn't hurt you did I?"

Licking dry lips she managed to croak out. "Sylar?" His eyes lit up hopefully.

"Do I know you?"


	3. Chapter 2

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I in no way own any part of Heroesverse.

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

A/N: I apologize for the overall shortness of this chapter; I have been disgustingly sick and any spare energy, which hasn't been too much, has been going towards my classes. X-P

* * *

_On a mountain he sits, not of gold, but of sin_

_Through the blood he can learn, see the life that it turn_

_From council of one he'll decide when he's done_

_With the innocent on his face is a map of the world._

_~ From Yesterday; 30 Seconds to Mars_

Chapter 2

Claire slapped his hand away with significant force and kicked back her feet in an attempt to scoot away. "No, no, no, no," she murmured, "You're dead, for good this time. We all stood there and watched your body burn away to ash. There was nothing left." He moved to try and reach out to her again. "Do not touch me!" she screamed, moving back farther.

As though her cry had burned him, Sylar's hand flinched back to his side. Confusion laced his face as he attempted to apologize, "I don't know what happened, but I am sorry for what I did to you –"

"Save the forgiveness crap," she snapped, corner of her eye roaming for a nearby weapon. Even with the exceptional moonlight it was difficult to see details. "You've tried it before and it was just as false then. Even if you are sincere, with everything you've done to me and my family you do not deserve to even ask."

Sylar's brow moved to an even more confused and worried expression, "What sort of things have I done?"

"Drop the act, Sylar," Claire spat. Spotting a glint on her right, she began to scoot slowly over to it. "All you do is take and take, so what do you want to take from me this time?"

Still on his knees from knocking into her, Sylar began to move closer to her in earnest, "What did I take from you?"

Incredible fury bubbled up from Claire's stomach up to her throat. How dare he pretend to not remember. Whatever game he was playing was taking it too far. Without looking she reached behind to grasp onto the broken bottle she spotted earlier. "This!" she yelled. In one smooth move she plunged the shard into Sylar's chest.

With a cry of intense pain, Sylar flew backwards staring in shock at the blood bubbling out from the wound. As soon as he moved back, Claire got up and prepared to run back the way she came. However, before she could even take her first step she grunted as she found herself thrust chest first against the nearest brick wall. She blinked and was flipped around as her back was now pinned to the wall.

Tears sprang up into her eyes and her breathing became labored as memories of the last time this happened flashed back. Choking for air Claire looked over to see his finger was pointed out, slowly twisting as though considering his options. Meeting Sylar's eyes all she saw was blank darkness, just like before. "Why?" she gasped out as tears began to roll down her cheek.

When her voice broke the silence, the cold killer eyes faded and guilt flooded Sylar's face. "No," he stated firmly, lower his hand quickly. Claire fell to the ground on her hands and knees. Planning to get up and run again, she paused when noted Sylar inspecting his hand as though it were a foreign object. Slowly he moved to prod at the glass still sticking out of his chest.

It was as though every move he made were new to him; as though all his powers appeared to be a mystery. "Just pull it out," said Claire, before she could stop herself.

The quick snap of his head indicated he had forgotten she was still there. Staring at her dumbfounded, he asked blankly, "Won't I bleed out?"

"Are you serious?" she exclaimed, absolutely perplexed by his question. Crawling over to him Claire grasped the makeshift weapon and, through his protests, yanked it out with one swift pull.

Inhaling deeply as the wound healed, Sylar poked where the incision once had been. Claire gulped involuntarily as he looked at her with childlike wonder. "How did you know that would happen?"

"What is wrong with you?" she asked, beyond confused by this point. Taking the glass that was still dirtied with his blood; she rubbed it deeply across her forearm as he hissed at her action. Her own blood flowed out to mix with his and the dirt on the glass. Claire watched his face light up in amazement as she felt the skin knit back in place.

Sylar reached out to stroke the mended skin, the warm contact made her inhale sharply. He looked up at her with eyes brimming with tears of his own and Clarie couldn't believe the tired innocence that shone through. "Didn't that hurt?"

"You took my pain," she replied quietly, surprised by his concern. "I want it back."

Dropping her arm Sylar stared at his hands. "They told me I was a killer," he stated blankly, still inspecting his hands. "Is that true?"

"They?" she asked calmly. She shook her head focusing on his main query. "Don't you know?"

"Am I?"

The pitifully broken voice that emitted from him with those two words affected Claire more than she cared to admit. Her chest felt as though it had been stabbed through with the glass and she could feel every part of it. "Yes," she admitted as plainly as possible.

Sylar ducked his head in shame and turned his body from her. "Anyone you cared about?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

Part of her mind snapped with the last question as a flash of anger pulsed through her veins. "Why do you care?"

"Because I don't want to be a killer!" snapped Sylar, spinning back to her. Claire's anger dissipated as she reared back. He stood, grasping his hair in frustration. "They told me I was one, it was all I was good at! I overheard them planning to make me an assassin, but I don't want that life! I won't be a play thing! I won't kill anyone!"

Sylar thudded his head into the brick breathing heavily in an attempt to control himself. The blonde's jaw hung open as she blinked a few times. He really didn't remember. His stance, his facial tics, the fact he didn't recognize his powers or remember who his victims were. Taking a few slow breaths to calm herself, Claire stood up and stepped over to the man. "Sylar," she started gently. "Who are 'they'?"

A moment of silence screamed between the pair before he turned to face her and she was once again struck by the simple innocence about him. "It was a carnival," he started, "a place full of people with abilities. The man with the big plans, his name was Samuel."

"Samuel," Claire repeated. At his nod she asked, "Samuel Sullivan?"

Obviously surprised she recognized that name, he remarked, "It is not fair how much you seem to know, even for a blonde."

Before she could help it, the corner of Claire's mouth lifted into a grin. "Looks like even though you don't seem to remember yourself, you can remember insulting jests." For the first time, ever she realized with a spare thought, Sylar gave a true smile. Not a triumphant smirk, not a sardonic lip quirk, not a pleased glower. And that smile was like his soul was shining through. This man might have Sylar's body, but he wasn't the monster she had grown to know. "Where were you going?"

"Away," he shrugged. "I don't know. I just had to get away."

Once again before she could stop herself, her mouth said, "Why don't you come home with me?" As soon as the words left, Sylar's entire body seemed to become less heavy. Claire thought the moment she made her proposition she would have felt sick or terrified, but instead she was relaxed.

"For how long?" he asked, suddenly very unsure of the situation.

"Until you start to feel…I would say like yourself, but I'm going to settle for better," she explained with a gentle smile. Suddenly becoming stern, Claire pointed a finger at him, "But I swear, if you are screwing with me for some greater purpose I get to have the opportunity to kill you. As many times as I want."

Sylar gave a notable pause. "Did anyone tell you that you're a little scary?" She blinked. The monster from her nightmares and walking terrors thought _she_ was scary? Claire started to walk back to her apartment with Sylar following close behind. Once back on a main road he asked, "By the way, what's your name?"

Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. This was beyond weird. "Claire."

"Claire," he repeated. Another full smile appeared. "It's nice."


	4. Chapter 3

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I only wish this was all mine.

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

* * *

_I'm not calling you a liar, just don't lie to me_

_I'm not calling you a thief, just don't steal from me_

_I'm not calling you a ghost, just stop haunting me_

_I love you so much, I'm gonna let you kill me._

_~ I'm Not Calling You a Liar; Florence + The Machine_

Chapter 3

Claire clicked the light switch illuminating her sitting room and eating area. Setting her keys and clutch purse on the table to her left next to where Angela's present still sat from earlier. Bringing the box across the table towards her, she realized the front door had yet to close. Turning she saw Sylar standing awkwardly at the threshold, as though waiting for a specific invite. "You can come in," she announced softly, endlessly amazed by this sheepish man before her.

Hesitating just a moment more, Sylar stepped into her apartment and shut the door behind him. Walking around to the sofa he took in the lack of decorations and personal belongings. "You don't have many memories here."

The way he worded that caused Claire to smile involuntarily. "No, I don't suppose I do."

"We're both searching for memories," he observed quietly, using one finger to shift through the magazines on her coffee table. Stopping he turned his attention completely to her with a small smile of his own, "You're kind of like me, aren't you?"

Any joy was wiped away from Claire's face instantly and a thick pit settled in her stomach. "Don't ever say that again," she warned stalking to her bedroom. Making a beeline to her closet she slammed the door open so she could get a towel and look for any spare clothes that Sylar might get to wear.

"I've upset you," came a deep voice from her doorway. "I'm sorry. I don't want to be like me either."

Sighing deeply, Claire shook her head. "It's just a touchy thought," she replied without looking at him. Calming herself with a few breaths, she resolved her face and turned to him. Appearing pleasant, she held the towel towards him. "Why don't you take a shower? I don't have any spare clothes here, but I'll see if my neighbor has any."

He took the object from her hands. When his skin touched hers briefly, Claire pulled her hands back surprised by the warm spark. Sylar's eyebrow cocked up. "You're going to your neighbor at this time of night?"

"Sweetie won't mind," she assured, slipping her still tingling hands on her hips. "Now, go get clean. You smell." When his face reflected worry, she smiled to reassure him she was joking.

She remained standing in her room until the water turned on. At that point Claire's knees gave out and she stumbled to sit on the edge of her bed. Cradling her head in her hands, she realized she had no idea what she was doing. Here she was having a man as a houseguest who _might_ have amnesia. Even though she felt in the center of her bones that he was telling the truth, this was still Sylar she was dealing with. A master at lies and disguise. What could his possible endgame be? And why use her to get to it?

But that lost look he gave her in that alleyway. He looked like a little, scared child. Nowhere to go, no one to trust. So he followed the girl who shoved part of a glass bottle in his chest. Claire smirked. He must really be desperate. He had been absolutely terrified by his automatic reactions when she attacked him.

Thinking she had taken enough time for the night pondering her situation, Claire headed to the next apartment to talk to her neighbor. Knocking four times she stood in the hall until the door swung wide open revealing Sweetie DeLouis. The fifty something year old black woman appeared in a pink nightie and nightcap. Taking in Claire's disheveled and dirty appearance, she shifted her weight to the right and shook her head. "Oh, honey child, what trouble have you gotten yourself into?"

"I need some help –"

"Well I can see that," she interrupted, leaning in to brush at Claire's cheek and hair. "You are filthy! What happened?"

"I got mugged," Claire blurted before any other scenario could have entered her mind. Sweetie's mouth opened to say something distasteful, but she continued before her neighbor had the chance. "Nothing too bad happened. An…old friend happened by and helped me out. But he got hurt and he's dirtier than I am so he's in my shower now and I was wondering if you had any spare clothes?"

The look that Sweetie gave, Claire was worried momentarily that she would say no. "All you have to do is ask!" she exclaimed with a quick laugh. "Why don't you go back to your room and I'll swing by once I find them."

"Thanks, Sweetie," said Claire returning to her own home as the door closed. Once back in the safety of her apartment, she closed her eyes and tilted her head against the door. She was absolutely exhausted to her marrow. It was now after 2am and all plans of sleeping in the nude were definitely and completely abandoned until further notice. And she had so been looking forward to that relaxing plan.

"Did you get clothes?" she heard Sylar ask from the entrance of the hall. Opening her eyes to address him, Claire squeaked and covered her eyes with both hands. He stood in her living room wearing nothing but the white towel slung low on his hips. Peaking through her fingers for a split second she saw that water continued to drip from his messy hair and trickle down his chest, which was something else…

Claire halted that mental path as firmly and quickly as she could. It was certainly not alright to be having those thoughts. "She'll be here in a couple of minutes," she explained, her sound muffled through her hands. "Could you go wait in the bathroom, please?"

"Yeah," he came back quickly, but he didn't move right away. "Do you have anything to eat?"

"Once you're dressed you are free to eat whatever you'd like," Claire answered, still determined to not look again. Though the pull at her stomach made the temptation to do so a thousand times greater.

"Right, thanks," replied Sylar as he began to head back to the bathroom. As soon as he had turned Claire put her hands down to admire the back of the retreating figure, which was equally impressive. When he was out of sight, she released a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. What was wrong with her hormones?

A rapid knock at the door indicated Sweetie's arrival. "I just grabbed what I had, you didn't specify his size and, hey, I'm not psychic."

"Thank you so much, Sweetie," stated Claire relieved as she accepted the bundle. "This is perfect, I'm not sure how many days he is going to end up staying."

Sweetie's eyes lifted noticeably. "Oh, your hero is staying in your home, hmm?"

All stray feelings of lust for Sylar were sucked away instantly with Sweetie's comment as Claire snapped, "He is not my hero."

"I'm just saying, mugging, adrenaline, sharing of a bed…" The naughty smile on the older woman's face returned Claire's good mood.

"Not sharing a bed," she clarified, pointing towards the furniture in the living room. "Couch." Gesturing to the bundle in her arms, she once again thanked Sweetie, "I should get these to him. He's waiting in the bathroom."

Sweetie's eyes once again lifted significantly, but she refrained from saying anything on the matter. Claire said her final farewells for the night and went towards the bathroom. Setting the collection of clothes on the floor by the door, she knocked to let him know they were there.

This late, or early she supposed, the best she could come up with food wise was a turkey sandwich and chocolate milk. She set the plate and cup out just as Sylar reentered the room. "Do you want me to try to wash your old clothes?" she offered, remembering the blood from the stab wound.

"No," he stated firmly, sitting down. "Burn them, throw them away, I don't want anything to do with the Carnival anymore." She nodded and slid into a chair on the other side of the table to watch him eat. When Sylar took a sip of the drink his eyes lit up, "What is this?"

Claire laughed, "It's chocolate milk." Still laughing as he eagerly took another sip, she asked, "You don't even remember that?"

"There was a psychologist who told me I have jamais vu," he took another hungry bite. "That I had forgotten certain tastes, smells, sensations along with my memories due to some traumatic event."

"Must have been pretty traumatic," muttered Claire, shifting in her chair.

Sylar paused in his eating to take a long look at her, causing her to shift in her chair more. "What did I do to you?"

The blonde blatantly looked down and away, she didn't have the energy to deal with that right now. "Can I tell you later? It's kind of a long story and I'm just too tired."

"Why do I see your face among those I murdered?"

"Sylar," she stated, placing a hand over his so the questions would stop. "I promise we will go over it tomorrow. Look at me, I'm sitting here alive and well. And you'd know if I were lying anyway."

"What do you mean?"

Heaving a deep sigh, Claire hung her head and let out a small giggle. "I keep forgetting you aren't aware of your powers. You're like a lie detector, I'm pretty sure it's a reflexive power too like with my healing." His thick brow furrowed in confusion. "I have never been a cheerleader," she lied.

Sylar's eyes widened at the sensation. "That tickles," he explained grinning, "You were a cheerleader?"

"Amnesia, blood of the innocent on your hands, hoards of powers at your command; and the thing you seem most eager to find out about is my cheerleading history," she poked, grinning right back. Claire glanced down to see she was still holding onto his hand. Letting go she stood suddenly, smoothing down her dress before heading towards the hall. "There are blankets on the arm of the couch, so you can sleep there."

"Where will you be?" he asked, head following her motions.

"A shower, because I am still disgustingly grimy, and then bed." Once in the bathroom she double checked that the door was indeed locked. Claire cranked up the hot water and stepped into the shower. The extreme heat burned at her skin at a level that was just beyond healthy, but she didn't care. The heat relaxed her muscles and steam cleared her head. And right now her only coherent thought was, bedtime.

Shutting the water off after a comfortable drenching, she put on cotton shorts and tank top before padding to her room. She didn't even bother to peek down the little hall to see if Sylar was there.

Beyond ready to surrender to sleep Claire slid into her Queen sized bed, snuggling into the warmth of the mattress and sheets as much as she possibly could. Weakly peeking one eye open her clock read 3:17am. Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered she had nowhere to be that morning, so she could sleep as late as she wanted. And she would want to. Closing her eyes her body felt like a lead weight that began to drift to sleep.

Just before she completely fell asleep, she was aware of the other side of the mattress becoming indented. Too worn out to react in any way she waited for the explanation which eventually came. "I don't want to be alone, if that's alright."

The fatigue of sleep began to make her brain hazy once more and she mumbled out, "Try anything while I'm sleeping and I'll gouge your eye out."

"I can live with that," he replied, amusement lacing his voice as Sylar settled into bed with her.


	5. Chapter 4

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Not mine, otherwise this would've really happened.

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

A/N: Just to let you guys know it's probably going to be an extra week before I update again. I am not going to be home for several days and I'm going to want to tweak the next chappie a bit before posting.

* * *

_No matter where I put my head, I'll wake up feeling sound again  
Breathe, it's all you can  
Tomorrow smells of less decay, the flowers greet this bloomin' fray  
Be thankful, that's all you can_

_~ Float; Flogging Molly_

Chapter 4

Claire rolled to her side opening one eye to see that it was nearly 2pm. She fully expected to see another person in her bed when she rolled the other way, but sat up with her elbows when she saw no one there; momentarily thinking she had dreamed the entire thing. Laying a hand over the other side, the mattress still felt warm and the covers were messed. Wondering where Sylar went, she got up and padded to the living room to look for him. She did a double take when she reached the kitchen as she saw Sylar fixing breakfast. "You can cook?"

His lip quirked up as he turned over a frying egg. "Apparently I am going to have fun discovering my many hidden talents." Claire placed her arms behind her and leaned against the counter behind him, tilting her head thoughtfully at his active domestic side. The strangeness of the situation once again was not lost on her. He appeared so normal and docile, but a little portion in the back of her brain was acutely aware of where he was. "So what other abilities do I have?"

As Sylar put forth the question he took a quick step towards her resulting in Claire giving a small jump to the side. Her abrupt action stopped him for a moment and with an eyebrow rise he resumed grabbing the two plates that were on the counter she had been standing in front of. Smiling nervously at her unexpected reaction, she ran her hand through her hair before answering. "Electricity, telekinesis, shape shifting, weird sort of human puppetry…" Sylar gave an odd look to the last one as he handed her a plate with an egg. "You have others, but those are the ones I've been on the direct end of."

The pair settled down where they had the night before at the table to eat. "Do you know how I can make them work?" asked Sylar, highly interested.

Swallowing down a bite that suddenly became thick, Claire shook her head glad she didn't know the answer. "I'm not really sure…"

At the same time they both reached for the salt. Their fingertips touched briefly and the blonde's hand snapped back to her side. He left the salt where it was as his face read confusion. This Sylar's emotions being an open book were an odd change. "What did I do to you?"

Claire shook her head and resumed eating. "Not now." He nodded slowly and also began to eat. Once finished, she picked up her plate. "I think I'm going to visit my dad today, see if he knows anything about your amnesia." Claire sighed as she stood to go get dressed, "Because as much as it pains me to say this, he probably does know."

As she walked by Sylar, he took hold of her arm. "Can I come with you?"

Frozen momentarily by his touch, with a tight grin she jerkily slipped her arm away. "That's really not a good idea. My reaction of stabbing you would be tame in comparison to what he would do."

X~ X~ X~

"Claire," greeted a surprised Noah enveloping his daughter in a hug.

"Hi, Dad," she responded with an equally tight hug before entering his apartment.

Closing the door Noah turned to address her. "Showing up here, no phone call ahead of time, would usually lead a father to believe something bad had happened."

"What? No," she assured, back purposely towards him so she wouldn't have to meet his eyes. "Can't a girl just drop in to say hi to her dad?" Flopping down on the couch with a sigh, Claire gave a bright smile.

Settling down on the other side, Noah inquired, "How is the apartment working?"

"Great!" she exclaimed. "All my stuff is nearly moved in though my TV is broken, but that should get fixed this week. The neighbor's are all really friendly, a lot of them gave me house warming presents." Taking advantage of the conversation she made, Claire took a breath before adding, "Actually, even Angela stopped by with one."

Noah's eyes lifted with evident surprise. "That was nice of her."

"Yeah, yeah it was," she agreed. Fidgeting with a ring on her thumb, she hesitated, slightly unsure of how to proceed. "While she was over she said some things…" The furrow on his brow instantly indicated he would not be happy no matter what she said. "Some things about Sylar."

Groaning Noah removed his glasses to rub his eyes. "Claire, Sylar is gone. You know this; we all stood there and saw his body fade away to nothing."

"Yeah, but what if he regenerated anyway? His body reassembled bit by bit and he is wandering around with some sort of mental trauma or vendetta –"

"Claire –"

"Or he could still be piecing himself back together slowly –"

"Claire –"

She gasped as another idea hit her, "Or he could have shaped shifted and the body that burned was a double –"

"Claire!" yelled her father, gripping her shoulder. "That man is not your concern anymore." The young blonde stifled a laugh and somehow maintained a serious face through that comment. "You do not need to worry because he is gone for good and is never coming back. Alright?"

She weakly returned the hopeful smile he offered with a brief nod knowing he would say no more on the subject.

X~ X~ X~

A few hours later, Claire out of the cab at her apartment and whipped out her mobile phone to dial a number; one she should do so more often, she thought off handedly. Putting the phone to her ear fully expected to hear the answering machine message of Nathan Petrelli. There had been that brief time at the Stanton while she and Peter had been missing from the action with Sylar. Nathan had been in the hotel room when they returned, maybe he knew something.

What she did not expect was an automated voice informing her Nathan's voice mailbox was full. Clicking the end button, Claire frowned as she opened the front door to her building. For Nathan in general, but especially as a senator, to have his phone full of messages was not normal. Once inside she dialed a different number and began to walk up the stairs.

"Peter, hey!"

"Claire, what's up?"

"Have you heard from Nathan recently? I tried calling him and I can't even leave a message."

"Is everything alright?" Claire could almost see him flipping his hair back with worry.

"Yeah," she lied, "I just was wanting to talk with him, but he hasn't emptied his voicemail."

There was a pause of silence from the other end as she reached her door. "Nathan has been behaving oddly for a few weeks, but I haven't talked to him in well over a week."

"Could you find out for me? It's kind of important."

"I thought you said everything was alright."

"Peter," she interjected entering her apartment, "everything is fine. I just really need to speak with Nathan. Can you look into it for me?"

"Sure," he assured. "Once I find him I'll tell him to call."

"I appreciate it Peter." Hanging up she closed the door and tossed her purse onto the table. "Well, my dad was definitely lying," announced Claire. Slipping off her shoes she pushed her toes into the soft carpet. "My dad knows you're still around, probably even what happened to you, but he's not going to share openly." Her guest sat up into view as he had been lying on the couch reading. Her attention was drawn past him as she pointed to the television against the wall. "You got that working?"

"Yeah," Sylar replied sounding sheepish. "You sounded like you would be gone most of the day so I decided to have a look." He got up and turned the television to show the back panel was still removed. "It was easy to get it working, like I knew exactly where the wires and chips were supposed to go. Just the back…won't go back on…"

"Meaning you broke it," she clarified. Claire couldn't help the lip quirk at his guilty silence. She laughed as she moved to sit on her sofa. The open textbooks on the table caught her eye. "You seriously read my ochem and psychology texts?"

He shrugged with one shoulder. "You don't have other options here."

"Tell you what, when I am on campus tomorrow, I'll be sure to pick you up a few books from the library." With a foot she flipped them closed, "I can barely stand reading them, not sure how you willingly could."

He smiled the smile that Claire had already grown used to while he came back to the sofa. Once settled in a relaxed position he asked, "Do you think your dad would be willing to help me?"

Claire snorted, "Not likely." Crossing her legs on the cushion to get more comfortable, she continued. "The scenario he reacted strongest to was that it was a body double we burned at Coyote Sands. Meaning that you have probably been walking around shifted into another person's form." She searched his face for any recognition. "Does that sound right at all?"

Sylar closed his eyes tightly in an attempt to remember. "The first thing I really remember was crawling out of the ground, but that was only a few days ago. So anything before that is possible I suppose."

"I got it," she announced, a serious expression set on her face. His attention was pointed all on her, anticipating whatever she said next. "Alien abduction."

A pause filled the air for a moment before Sylar laughed out right. His abrupt reaction caused her to emit a giggle. "I think you found the answer."

Settling into a lull in conversation, both focused on the formulaic cop drama which had replaced a great cancelled show on the television. After a few moments of quiet, out of the corner of Claire's eye she noticed Sylar's hand coming towards her head. Just as it was about to come into contact with her head she jerked back and away from him.

Frowning, Sylar gestured to her head, "You've got a leaf in your hair." Claire used her own hand to try and pick it out, but kept missing. He leaned in again, "If you'd just let me –"

"I got it," she interrupted, standing up. She rushed towards the bathroom so she could check her problem in the mirror. Picking through the strands of yellow, she finally found the leaf and tossed it in the trashcan. Turning to the door she gave a little yell of surprise when she saw Sylar blocking the door jam with crossed arms.

"What did I do to you?" asked Sylar quietly, keeping his arms crossed. "You always flinch away whenever I move to touch you, even if just for the littlest thing."

"I do not," Claire replied indignantly. She slid past him, with as little contact as possible, before going into her bedroom. He followed her in as she shifted through her closet, not necessarily looking for anything particular, just trying to avoid the conversation at hand.

"To just get your attention? To reach past you for some plates? For salt? A leaf?" he listed. Claire felt him stepping closer, but stopping just outside of reaching distance. "You're the only person I feel that I really know through all of this. I trust you, Claire. But why don't you trust me?"

His heart felt honesty confused Claire in ways she couldn't even begin to express and made her feel guilty; which in turn added to her confusion. Rubbing her forehead with one hand she stated, "Look, I am tired. I promise we'll talk about this tomorrow –"

"You promised today," he insisted with a slight growl.

Claire whirled around slamming the closet door. "Yeah, I did. And now I don't want to." She pointed emphatically to the door leading to her bedroom. "I said I am tired, I want to go to bed." With a quick after thought, she added. "Alone."

Sylar's head lowered and a dark expression covered his face. It wasn't the old psycho killer darkness, just the darkness of a man who was sick of being put aside; and that was the only reason Claire hadn't shifted to full panic mode. He held one hand up before folding the fingers quickly to the palm, shutting the door to the rest of the apartment. He stalked towards her and her fists tightened. In three long strides he hovered in her personal space, head tilted in so she had nowhere to look but at him. Claire inhaled deeply to steady her rapidly beating heart. "Tell me." Though his posture would be deemed threatening, the vocal tone of his request was kind. And for some reason that just lit an incredible anger inside of Claire.

"Fine," she spat out, tossing the clothes onto her bed. "You're a psychopath. In your blind greed to get my power for your collection you brutally murdered one of my classmates. You stalked me for months before attacking me in my own home, and after you ripped my scalp off you laid me out on the coffee table in order to poke around in my brain. And afterwards, you left. Just left me alone. And I was forced to deal with the remaining fear, paranoia, and the fact you took away the one sensation that made me still feel human."

Sylar backed away looking sick as he stumbled to the window, death gripping the sill. Though she knew this Sylar could not be blamed for the actions of the past, Claire felt a jab of satisfaction upon his reaction.

"I'm not finished," shouted Claire, following him closely behind. "You trapped my family in a building then you allowed me to choose who was to die; my dad, my birth mom, or my grandmother. You proceeded to slaughter nearly everyone else there before murdering my mom. A couple of months later you killed your way up to nearly taking over the Presidency, but before that went through you kidnapped me and tried a sicko seduction to force me to become your 'first First Lady'. So forgive me for being a little jumpy."

After her tirade she breathed heavily from the emotional outpouring of anger. Sylar's shoulders remained tense for a few more silent moments before turning around. "I did all these terrible things, ruined lives, not just for you, but plenty of other people as well. So I need to know one more thing." His eyes met hers squarely, just as lost as ever. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because –" She stopped short, all future words blocked in her throat, suddenly unsure of what could possibly be said. "I don't know."

"Yes you do," he informed coming a little closer. "I can feel that you do, so why are you helping me?"

"Because…" Closing her eyes she opened her mouth and let whatever was in her mind out. "Because you really don't know who you are. I thought maybe it was a trick at first, but I know it's not. I guess in the end I'm just scared. I'm scared you aren't the only one with this problem, I'm scared of whatever had the power to do this. And I'm scared for you."

"But are you scared of me?"

"No," she answered without missing a beat, the honest in the response surprising her.

Breaking eye contact, Sylar looked down and nodded. Taking a few steps forward he took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. Though her stomach and heart jumped at the contact, Claire for once had no desire to make an effort to pull away. He took his other hand to her head and tilted it to place his lips along her hairline. "Thank you," he whispered.

Without another word Sylar left the room, closing the door behind him. As soon as the click resounded, Claire took a sharp inhale of breath and put her hands to her face to will the blush away. Peeking over her shoulder at where Sylar exited, she slowly smiled knowing that no matter how unpleasant that exchange had been; the air had been cleared and everything was going to be alright between them now.

In the morning when she got up to get ready for class, she wasn't at all bothered or surprised to see Sylar sleeping in the bed next to her.

Nor was she bothered any day afterwards.


	6. Chapter 5

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Nope, just double checked. Do not own it.

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

A/N: Ugh! Because I'm sick with a sore throat and lost voice I can't go play at the KC Renaissance Festival this weekend! Been looking forward to it for weeks and now no go! :( So sad! Anyhoo, kewpie doll to those of you who caught my not so subtle hint last chapter to NBC being morons. :P

* * *

_Just as long as you stay with me  
The whole world is my throne  
Beyond here lies nothin'  
Nothin' we can call our own_

_~ Beyond Here Lies Nothin'; Bob Dylan_

"It has been days since anyone has seen him," stated Lydia as she watched Samuel pace back and forth. His agitation had been causing restlessness among others in the Carnival, an energy that put forth a sense of discomfort amongst the members. They trusted Samuel, looked to him for direction; and here he uncertain of his next move and angry because of it.

"I have been working to protect this family, to surround us with those whose powers can adequately do just that. It's not productive to have people disappear when we need them the most." In his frustration he kicked a trailer, the harsh sound causing the nearby woman to jump. "We need him back."

Samuel continued his hunched pacing. Biting her bottom lip ever so slightly, Lydia could feel the wall of anger and agitation mounting behind her. "Maybe you don't need to know where he is."

The pacing ceased for a few quiet seconds. One hand settled on the back of the chair and the other on the shoulder of the opposite side. He leaned in so close Lydia felt her hair move as he spoke. "What exactly are you implying?"

"I show you what you need to see," she replied looking straight ahead. "Perhaps you don't need to know _where_ he is. Try a different approach." Fingers tightened on her shoulder before releasing. Samuel backed off and resumed pacing, though not angry in its stride.

"A different question," he murmured under his breath. Snapping his fingers Samuel picked up the bamboo stick and inserted it into the woman's back. "Tell me what Sylar needs." Lydia closed her eyes as the ink spread and immediately formed pictures. The first portrait was of Sylar himself before a thin black line connected to Claire Bennett. A similar line connected from her to a barely visible black cloud that couldn't decide on a figure. Inhaling with excitement Samuel placed a shaky finger over the hardly there hazy swirl. "There's our answer."

"It doesn't even exist yet," commented Lydia with eyes still closed. "Not even a thought much beyond us. How are you going to use it?"

"By sending someone to speak with Claire Bennett," he answered, tucking in his shirt and fixing his hair.

"Not the Japanese man," she checked.

"No, not him. Mr. Nakamura will be of use at a later point I am sure." Stepping out of the tent opening, Samuel moved quickly to find the resident speedster. "Edgar, I'm going to send you to reach out to Claire Bennett."

"Haven't you already tried though?" he asked, moving one last swipe of a rag over his blades.

"I have, but you're going to try a different way." Placing a hand firmly on his shoulder, Samuel leaned in to whisper, "It's a bit of a gamble, so you're going to need to follow my instructions exactly."

X~ X~ X~

For six days Sylar had stayed with Claire. For six days he had lived in her apartment, eaten her food, kept her company, and slept in her bed. And life honestly could not become any more comfortable than it was in that moment for either party involved. Sylar's constant company was something Claire had become accustomed to in such a short time. He had been a perfect gentleman keeping his distance by not touching her in the least since their talk, something she had appreciated greatly.

His movements and habits around the apartment were those which she was becoming accustomed to. He would always ask about her day, share what he read while she had been gone, and ask questions about her life. Feelings and details that she herself hadn't even known about were revealed to him. Ideas on how to resolve Sylar's memory problem appeared to have reached a standstill, but that little fact did not appear to both either.

This particular Friday night Claire had to do a makeup chemistry lab along with a few classmates. Walking into the sitting area with a backpack over her shoulder, she informed her new houseguest of this fact. "Can I come with you?" he asked.

"You never come with me to class and you do realize you're not a prisoner," she clarified. "You can leave at any time that you want."

He shrugged avoiding eye contact. "I don't want to leave by myself."

Sighing to herself, Claire dramatically swept an arm to the door. "Alright then, let's go."

"You're annoyed," he observed not taking a step towards the door.

"No, I'm not," she assured. At his eyebrow quirk, she inhaled to reconsider. "Okay, maybe a little bit; but I'm more amused." Still he remained silent waiting for her to elaborate. "It's been nice. You being here, your company; but you are capable of far more than you seem to realize."

Seemingly embarrassed by the vote of confidence, he went to the door to hold it open as they exited the apartment.

X~ X~ X~

"See you later, Claire! And thanks for cleaning up!" yelled her lab partner as he rushed out of the room. Eight individuals had to redo the lab, six of which had left an hour before. But since Claire had been stuck with the incompetent moron, she still remained behind. To get him out of her hair she had insisted he leave as soon as the data had been gathered, more than happy to deal with the cleanup herself. Taking a walk up and down the five aisles of lab stations she made sure the gas valves were turned to an off position and the blue lever at the end of each aisle was locked up also in an off position. Checking the test tubes and graduated cylinders were cleaned out she placed them upside down on the racks to drip dry. Lastly, the spark lighter to ignite the Bunsen burner was put away in its drawer in the back of the classroom. The lighter was a round steel disc with a piece of flint attached so when the two handles were squeezed together, a spark would start over the gas and thus create a flame.

Once her work was completed Claire came back to her backpack to pack up the books. She had left Sylar in the floor level lobby of the seven story science building and she had no doubt he would still be there waiting for her. Eager to be in his company again she hustled with her book stacking, the back of her mind still not quite certain why she was happy to meet with Sylar. After a long, difficult lab time all she knew was she was excited to be with him again.

Any spare thoughts of self scolding were washed away as a rush of wind blew in the classroom rustling her hair. Head snapping to the doorway she saw an average sized, built man leaning casually against the frame. "Hi," she offered hesitantly as he had appeared out of nowhere.

"I shocked you, love, I'm sorry," stated the man with a British accent. Stepping forward he introduced himself. "My name is Edgar, I'm here on behalf of Samuel to warn you."

Worry stabbed at Claire's gut, knowing instantly he was here about Sylar. The question was, how much did this man know? Keeping her face as pleasant as possible she replied, "Look, I appreciate what Samuel is doing for specials, but I made it clear that I don't want anything to do with him."

"He just wants to help," insisted Edgar. "He asked me to come here to warn you. About a man called Sylar, that he's looking for you."

So she had been right. Claire allowed the worry from before register externally as she thought quickly to determine his real motive. "But he's dead. So there's no need to worry, but thanks anyway."

"You so sure about that?" he asked, slipping hands into his pant pockets. "Just for a day or two, please, come with me to be certain everything is safe."

She nearly missed his last statement as a dull glint at his waist caught her eye. A series of thin blades were strapped on his person, leading her to believe this was the man who had gutted her dad. Mind catching up with his last statement, Claire nodded absent mindedly. "Yeah," she murmured before becoming more chipper. "Yeah, that would be fine. But if Sylar's really here for me, wouldn't it be a bad idea to take me to a place full of specials?"

"We're tougher than you'd think," he assured with a cocky smirk.

"So, that must mean you're a special? What is it that you can do?" she casually inquired, stalling for time to think of an escape. Of course the idea forming currently depending upon Edgar never having set foot in a science classroom, but it was all she had at the moment.

The man's eyes lit up, clearly proud of his power and excited at the prospect of showing it off. Before she could blink, a rush of wind blew past her and Edgar was suddenly in the back corner of the lab. Next she felt a gust of wind again he was once more in the doorway.

Swallowing past the dry lump in her throat, Claire put her energy into plastering on a smile. It was definitely him. "You're a speedster."

"That I am," he announced, endlessly pleased with himself. "One of the fastest."

Again she swallowed a lump and smiled brightly, desperately hoping the fear wouldn't be showing. This idea was insane and criminal, but it would work. Maybe. In the back of her mind she just hoped Sylar wouldn't decide to come look for her. Though this was technically his problem, him there at that moment would only complicate matters. "You promise the Carnival will be a safe place? I mean, if Sylar really is back, he has a tendency to find people anywhere."

"Samuel's working to have that not be an issue. We want to stay safe and secluded, so no one can find or hurt us." She nodded, eyes scanning the classroom one final time. With a grand gesture Edgar offered his arm. "Shall we?"

"Let me finish cleaning in here first, then we can go." As calmly as she could, Claire walked down all the aisles undoing the work she had completed. Beginning at one end, she pulled the blue lever down to allow gas to flow through the pipes. Continuing to each station she turned the knobs to allow gas freely into the room. Casting a glance over she was more than relieved to see Edgar looking impatient, not suspicious. "So how far away is the Carnival?"

"Not too far when I'm your transport," he stated confidently. "Read to leave yet?"

Opening the drawer that held the spark lighter, Claire extracted the silver object and held it up. The room now noticeably smelling of gas, the little spark should be enough to do damage. "No, actually. You either leave on your own or tell me why you really want me. Otherwise I will light this room up."

His eyebrows furrowed. "What? With a nutcracker?"

Sparing a look to her hand, the back of her mind was amused. It did look sort of like a nutcracker. However, in that little moment it took her to look to the side Edgar had sped towards her. He had taken the lighter and held her throat in the crook of his elbow in a choke hold.

"Where is Sylar?"

Though it didn't hurt at all, Claire dramatically choked for air hoping to poke at his compassionate side. "Dead." Clawing at his arm she emitted a rather convincing gag noise. "He burned… I watched it…"

"No see, I know that's a lie," Edgar growled, squeezing his arm tighter. Though there was no pain, the corners of her vision speckled black. "Last week he was with us at the Carnival, very much alive and very much a pain in the arse." Even though her lungs burned with no oxygen left she somehow managed a sick sounding laugh at that. "Tell me!"

Suddenly the brute behind her flew away and cold air rushed into her lungs. Hunched over and coughing from the abrupt internal change, she couldn't help but smile at the sight of Sylar at the doorway. Okay, maybe it was a good idea he came to find her. With his arm still raised he didn't look like a cold blooded killer, just an angry man trying to help.

Standing straight she turned to address what she thought would be Edgar in a heap on the floor. Claire barely registered the blur moving around her or the sensation of blades digging into her skin. In the course of perhaps two or three seconds Edgar shredded her body all over. No pain, just a dull slide over her clothing and flesh before a gush of warm flowed down. Blades passed over her back, stomach, arms, face, legs. A particularly effective swipe behind her knees caused her to lose the ability to even stand. His last swipe dug so deeply into her throat that Claire couldn't speak.

Lying on the tile floor in a pile of her own blood, she observed Sylar telekinetically holding Edgar up to the ceiling. His hand curved in a vice like grip so the speedster was choking to breathe or speak. "Now that wasn't very smart," chided Sylar, evidently enjoying his revenge. As Sylar's finger slowly came up to form a slicing motion, Claire gurgled from her position on the cold floor wanting him to stop. She definitely wanted Edgar to pay, but not at this Sylar's expense.

Whatever noise had come from her throat was enough to cause Sylar to turn his attention to her in concern. The tendons in her legs had healed back together so she was able to stand up. Walking to his side, she held the skin on her throat closed until it knitted shut. Hands slick with blood she rubbed them on her utterly ruined clothes before looking up to the Brit. "So are you ready to talk?"

His response was a rather classy spit directed at the pair of them.

Ignoring the insult and the constant inquisitive side glances from Sylar, she asked, "Why did you come here?"

"Piss off."

Sylar's invisible grip tightened as Claire crossed her arms annoyed. "Look, either answer my question or he starts a lightning bolt and you fry."

"But you'll burn too."

"Clearly won't bother us," she snapped not too subtly. "So I am asking one more time. Why did you come here?"

Edgar's lips pursed, clearly weighing his options, deciding if there was a bluff involved. But the mounting pressure around his neck made him explain to Sylar, "To make you come back. Samuel still needs you. We knew you'd be with her, so I was chosen to come make a case to have you return."

"Why?" inquired Sylar, anger seeping through with every word. "So I could do your dirty work? By murdering people?"

"If memory serves you're useless at that job."

Squeezing tighter he growled, "Care to test me right now?"

"Let him go," stated Claire evenly. At the bewildered look on both mens faces, she explained, "You'll deliver a message. No more tricks, no more visitors, we never want to see any of you people again. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, sure, of course," rushed the man on the ceiling. "But just to let you know, the offer still stands, to come back with us."

Snorting in disbelief he let him arm down to allow Edgar to simply flop several feet to the floor. "Right, that's something I'll be glad to consider after this." Had the whole situation not been so tense, Claire may have laughed at the bluntly sarcastic side Sylar was letting off. "Now get out."

In normal speed, Edgar made for the door. Not at all surprised, his hands slid under his coat to reach for throwing knives. At the same time, both Sylar and Claire threw themselves out two windows, Sylar emitting an electrical bolt from his hands on the way down. As the fire blast exploded the classroom Claire felt herself falling and glass descending with her. Before she fell more than two stories, her partner in crime scooped her up. Holding on tightly and clinging to the familiar, the pair flew into the sky and away from the mass spectators that gathered on the ground below.


	7. Chapter 6

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: M

Disclaimer: It's not mine, I'm not making money from this, and I am broke. Don't sue me!

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

A/N: Hello, did I fall off the face of the Earth for awhile? Just a little bit! Being super sick, finals, exchange students in the home, followed by more finals all tend to leave very little time for sleep, let alone fun time fic writing. But I'm back now!

A/N 2: Note the rating increase for this chappie. What could that possibly mean? (wink wink, nudge nudge) Anyhoo I separated the smexy smexy time with a different divider so it can be skipped if so desired (Like "Q~Q~Q~Q~Q" before and after). And… I think that's everything! :)

* * *

Chapter 6

_Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart  
Drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart  
My fingers claw your skin, try to tear my way in  
You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to howl_

_~ Howl; Florence + The Machine_

The entire way back neither spoke to each other, each contemplating their own ideas about the encounter. Thankfully they did not run into anyone until reaching the hallway to Claire's apartment. As they came to the door Sweetie approached from the other end of the hall. A basket of laundry propped against her side, her jaw dropped as she took in their appearance. Both covered in smoke smears and dirt as a result of the explosion and fire, not to mention Claire's clothes being tattered to shreds and covered in blood.

"Let me guess," started the older woman with an entirely doubtful look that communicated through her body. "Another mugging?"

"Uh, yeah," agreed Claire getting her keys out of her pocket.

Sweetie's hip popped to an unhealthy degree as she pursed her lips in a disappointed manner. "Honey child, I know you've been keeping things from me. And that goes for you too, hot cheeks," she tilted her head towards Sylar to let him know he was included. "A little bit of truth goes a long way with me."

Brain absolutely muddled from the night Claire opened and closed her mouth several times to try and think of something, anything, to tell her neighbor, but nothing logical came to mind. "A man from my past came back to threaten me," spoke Sylar. Well that was simple enough.

Pointing an uncertain finger at the blonde's even more disheveled appearance, Sweetie asked, "Positive it was just you?"

"Crossfire," she breathed out, relieved this would actually prove to be enough.

An eyebrow rose. "And is said man going to be coming back again?"

"Pretty sure he's dead," replied Sylar with no remorse, but then again Claire felt much the same way.

Instead of fretting or becoming frightened, Sweetie simply nodded and used her free hand to rub a smudge off of Sylar's jaw. "Why don't you shower in my home, that way you both can get clean faster."

"I don't mind waiting –" began Sylar.

Holding a finger up for silence, the old woman shook her head. "Wasn't a request. I still have some clothes you can wear too. Come on." Thrusting the basket into his hands, she grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged the man to her door.

"Sweetie, can I ask one more favor?" asked Claire, coherent thoughts coming in and out of her mind. She stopped to wait for the request, so she continued. "If any cops come by asking about me, could you say I got back an hour ago?"

"Right, both of you came back an hour ago," she repeated.

"Not the both of us," Claire clarified quickly. "Just me. You've never seen him before if those questions come up. Please?"

Once more looking dissatisfied with the information before her, Sweetie pressed her lips together again. "You both best tell me more later, but I'll do it since you asked so nicely."

"Good," sighed Claire, putting the key into the lock with one hand and already slipping her shoes off with the other. "I cannot wait to wash my own blood off of me." Not glancing back to see if Sweetie did a double take, she shut the door.

Shuffling to her room, she was barely aware of grabbing clothes before going to the bathroom. Setting them on the counter Claire caught her reflection in the mirror and she did a double take. No wonder Sylar kept giving her concerned side looks and Sweetie stopped when she saw her. Nearly every part of her was covered in blood. The hair on her left side was disheveled, discolored, and crusty. Her face was spotted with red and lines streaked across her forehead, temple, and mouth. Remembering the deep incision along her neck, she lifted her jaw to inspect the healed cut and blood that had oozed down past the collar of her shirt. Stripping off her ruined clothes she gaped at the amount of reddish brown all over her. There was very little of her actual skin color coming through. There were numerous dark streaks indicating where Edgar's blade had passed over her and every one of those had bled a considerable amount.

She hadn't really felt any of it.

The ruined clothes on the ground were so caked with blood they nearly stood up on their own. Disgusted, she shoved them into the waste basket and switched on the water to the shower. The handle was turned all the way to the cold side when she stepped in. As the stream pelted overhead she stared down to watch the constant flow of red and brown swirling down the drain. The color starkly stood out from the white porcelain tub and seemed never to end. Alarmed by the amount that continuously came off of her, Claire looked at the dried blood still all over her. It seemed to not be coming off.

Reaching out from behind the shower curtain she grabbed a washcloth. Wiping it along her arm, Claire worked to get the muted red off of her. When the washcloth turned colors but the stain remained on her skin, she scrubbed harder. The more she scrubbed the more red the washcloth changed to and the dirtier her arm became.

Stopping suddenly, she watched the flesh mend back together and Claire realized she had rubbed her arm raw.

She hadn't even felt it.

A sob racked across her chest and Claire covered her mouth to stifle it. Hearing herself cry only caused the tears to flow freely. Unable to stop crying, Claire slowly slid to the floor of the tub. The stream of water came down on her head, a stream that she barely registered as absolutely freezing. Burying her face in her knees, she continued to sob at the realization that she was losing the ability to feel basic sensations.

Not being able to feel pain was old news in her world, but even when something hurt her body she would be able to register something happening. She had been consciously aware of maybe a tenth of what Edgar had done to her, and the current water temperature would have bothered her a few weeks ago.

In that moment a feeling of intense loneliness nearly swallowed her whole.

She was turning into an empty shell who didn't really have many connections to the world.

She had one dad who continued to lie to her, another who wouldn't return her phone calls, a mom and brother who would never understand, and an uncle who was preoccupied with the impossible task of saving everybody in the world. Any outsider who learned of her secret left in the end and those who didn't wanted nothing to do with her. Any special who might understand made it clear it was a life they did not want to speak about. Except one.

Claire couldn't help the giggle that passed through her lips as she realized that Sylar was the exception. The jamais vu had made him forget how items felt, tasted, and smelled so he constantly experienced new things. Though her predicament was the reverse, it was a relief to know that someone else was having issues similar to her.

Resolved to be done crying and to talk with Sylar afterwards, Claire opened her eyes. The water running to the drain was clear and there was no more blood or dirt on her. Finishing up, she dried off and slipped into sleep shorts and a short sleeved v-neck shirt.

Shaking fingers through her still wet hair, she stepped to the main room to find Sylar pacing. He was also clean, wearing a zipper hoodie and sweatpants from Sweetie. As soon as he spotted her in the doorway he rushed to her side, hands hovering over her shoulder and arms in an attempt to respect her distance wishes. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she stated with more certainty than she felt. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Did you not see yourself?" he asked incredulously, checking her over for marks they both knew wouldn't be there.

"It happens, you know that better than anyone –"

"Let me look at you," he interrupted, not at all paying attention to what she was trying to say. Taking a hold of her wrist, Sylar led her to the table. With two hands, he took her by the waist and lifted her so she could sit on the wooden surface. The squeak that she emitted went ignored as he commenced checking her over.

He took her calf with both hands and rubbed his fingertips over the smooth skin. Unable to help herself, a blush floated onto her face and her breathing increased. He continued stroking an irregular pattern up her legs slowly, breaking occasionally to move to another portion. Every touch, every stroke warmed her to the marrow. Every time Sylar moved away a different part of her mind cried out, then every time he came back into contact that same part her mind flared to life.

His fingers trailed up to the edge of her shorts and Claire stopped breathing all together as her stomach dropped, but it definitely wasn't from fear. Not moving up any further Sylar switched to her other leg. "Could you feel it when he cut you?" So he had been copying the blows Edgar had delivered.

"No." Mouth suddenly very dry, she swallowed to ignore his face so close to her leg. "Not once."

Only fascination showed on Sylar's face as he looked up to her, hands still on her leg. "Can you feel me?"

"Yeah." Claire giggled from both the double entendre within that statement and the fact he reached a particularly sensitive space on the inside of her knee. "It kind of tickles."

Smiling from her reply, he resumed his exploration. Once more stopping at Claire's shorts, once more leaving her hot and breathless, Sylar moved to her arm. Finishing quickly with that one, he went to the other until he had traced over the invisible blade marks. Without even asking, he lifted up the bottom of her shirt to expose her stomach. Gasping at the bold move, Claire didn't complain as fingers moved along her stomach and hips. She gripped the edge of the table to stop herself from doing something she would later regret.

The longer he touched her, the more aware of her surroundings she became, the harder blood pumped through her veins, the more flushed her skin turned, the more she wanted him. As one hand replaced her shirt Sylar's other hand went to her neck, leaning in so close she could feel his breath. In order to see the back of her neck, he nudged her knees apart so he could stand between her legs. Claire bit her lip to stifle the gasp that rose up as he leaned in, stroking her hair to the side to properly see her skin. Strangely, the non-lustful way he was looking at her was one of the sexiest things she had ever encountered.

Coming back around to inspect her face his fingers trailed over her cheeks, temples, jaw. When he passed over her lips the rush of blood in her head increased to a deafening level. Knowing that he had completed looking at her Claire sensed he was about to step away. Not ready to lose feeling sensations, she grabbed onto his hands to have him continue holding her face. Sylar appeared surprised by her sudden movement as he stayed where he was.

She wasn't sure of how much time passed as she grasped onto his wrists tighter, leaning her face in his hand. As a tear rolled down her cheek confusion and desire settled inside her. In a broken voice she asked, "Why am I letting you touch me?"

With a thumb, Sylar brushed away the tear trail. He suddenly realized how she was looking at him and his inquisitive look was replaced with one of want. Not a freaky selfish want, but a lustful one. Which Claire was more than fine with, but why? Searching her face as though for an answer, he replied, "Because I understand."

No other explanation needed, Claire leaned the short distance to place her lips on his. Once, twice, then it kept repeating until she lost count. When she could tell he wasn't going to move away she released his hands and wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him closer. Sylar's own hands roamed down her back, sliding just under the hem of her shirt to reach her skin. She could feel it still. Wanting more skin contact, and without breaking the never ending stream of kisses, Claire used her left hand to unzip his hoodie. Pushing it off over his shoulder, Sylar let go of her for a moment to shrug it off. Eyes closed through the movements, she could tell he was not wearing a shirt underneath. She would have to thank Sweetie later.

The kisses in the beginning had been slow, as though testing if there was a limit. Discovering that no limit would be reached any time soon they had intensified and increased. Gone was the unsure guy who had lived with her for several days and here was a man who knew how to get exactly what he wanted. To pull herself closer Claire wrapped her legs around his waist. Enjoying the change, Sylar leaned forward so her back laid against the eating surface.

"Not on the table," she managed to gasp out in between kisses. She could feel Sylar smile up against her mouth as he sat her back up. Readjusting his grip he lifted her up and Claire let out a squeak as he carried her back to the bedroom.

Q~Q~Q~Q~Q

Once through the door Sylar spun around pinning her up to the wall. His fingers went through and tugged at her hair as she clawed at his bare back. The sound that could be heard in the room was the noise from their fervent kisses and the moans that emanated from both. When Sylar's lips didn't immediately return to hers, Claire opened her eyes in confusion only to roll them back as he trailed down her neck. Every suck and nibble tingled across her skin.

A particular spot at the base of her neck caused Claire to gasp out quite loudly. At the noise Sylar chuckled against her skin, repeating the gesture a few times before moving on. He continued along her exposed skin until he reached the hem of her collar. Much to Claire's surprise, his mouth jumped down to take her nipple through her shirt. The fabric stuck to her skin as it became wet even as his teeth and tongue maneuvered the nub.

The attention her body was being paid made her hips buck against him. The shifting she was doing hit Sylar in a rather sensitive area below the waistband. In response he bit down harder on her nipple and moaned to let her know he liked it. As she grinded against him, she became aware that there was nothing but a thin layer of sweatpants material separating him from the world. Once again, she would have to thank Sweetie later.

So wrapped up in processing all the sensations, Claire was almost unaware of having her shirt taken off. After throwing the fabric somewhere behind him, Sylar leaned down to play with her other breast and her breathing grew heavier. As much as she was enjoying the attention she became more desperate for additional physical contact. Looking down to see he was still occupied Claire slid a hand down his waistband, proving her commando theory. As soon as she touched his member, Sylar stopped all motions momentarily and concentrated on her actions. She was glad she was so easily able to affect him as she continued to gently stroke him.

Noticing she was in control for the moment, with her other hand Claire pushed off from the wall. Using her higher position and weight she maneuvered them to fall into bed, causing an "Oomf" from both. The mattress bounced as Sylar flipped so he was on top of her. He kissed his way back up, taking an extra moment at the base of her neck making her stomach drop with need and fingers clutch onto him even more. When his mouth came back up to hers the pair shared a few lazy moments just to enjoy the firm kisses. Now confident hands moved over backs, jaws, hair, sides, anywhere they could get contact and an audible reaction from the other.

Claire took her hands off just long enough to start to slide her shorts off. Eagerly Sylar copied her actions with his own bottoms, sighing with a little relief when he was no longer restricted. As his knee nudged her legs apart, Claire knew what was to come next and her entire body was flushed and shaking with anticipation. He leaned up a bit to get the right angle and, while still tightly lip locked, slid home.

Had his mouth not been over hers at the time, he wouldn't have been able to stifle the scream that came from her. It felt as though every nerve in her body were trying to extend from her fingertips and toes. Her stomach pulled down even more with desire as Claire arched off the bed. The intense reaction wasn't from pain, as that was impossible, but from intense sensory over load. Best part, she hadn't even come yet.

Sylar knew that her response was one of pleasure so he immediately began moving at a consistent pace. His controlled pattern faltered when Claire brought her legs up to hook them on his back, which in turn caused his thrusts to go deeper. "Right there," she gasped out, meeting him pump for pump. He pulled at her locks, she bit at his chest, he growled in approval, she dug her nails into him. Involuntarily her inner muscles flexed from constant stimulation which caused Sylar arch into her suddenly and stop all movement. Breathing heavily and body crying out from lack of motion, Claire brushed his hair aside to look at him. "Go ahead," she assured, body and mind more happy than she had been in ages.

He grinned at her, pecking her forehead before gliding to her ear to whisper, "I want to watch you come first." Her breath caught and limbs went rigid at the suggestion, leading Sylar to chuckle as he picked up his pace from before. Once at the intensity from before he leaned in again, "Ready?"

"You seem awful sure of yourself," she breathlessly stated swiveling her hips in a different way, glad to see his face wince in concentration. Once more he paid attention to the pulse points on her neck as fingers trailed down along her belly and across her chest. Before she could realize it, Sylar simultaneously managed to suck on her sensitive neck spot, pinch at a nipple, and rub at her clit. It didn't take her long at all to cry out loudly.

Claire couldn't help it. She had absolutely no control over herself for a few moments. Her toes and fingers curled so tightly she felt they might break. Her chest felt so light she might be able to fly away. It felt as though she were finally able to breathe for the very first time, yet was drowning simultaneously.

Finishing off her vocal cry as she came down from her high, she watched in turn as Sylar picked up speed. Though there were remaining spasms from her orgasm, she squeezed her inner walls as tightly as she could around him. With a roar he thrust into her one final time before collapsing onto her absolutely spent.

Q~Q~Q~Q~Q

Samuel rubbed at his chin as he stared intently at the faint ink still swirling on Lydia's back. Ever since Edgar had left the Carnival Master had done nothing but sit and stare at the smoky figure. Suddenly the faintly gray swirl switched to stark black. Standing so quickly, the stool Samuel was on knocked over. He came up to touch the picture. "There it is."

"There's no form though," noted Lydia through closed eyes.

"Well there wouldn't be, would there?" He continued to stroke her back with awe. "I suppose we're lucky to be seeing even this much."

Tears of happiness and relief welled in Samuel's eyes as he stepped back. Lydia covered herself back up, an irritated look upon her face. "I hope this is worth the burns that Edgar sustained."

Samuel's smile faltered only slightly as he replied. "I have no doubt that Edgar will heal in time." Taking her hand he led her out into the open. "Now, to share the good news and begin preparations for our new arrival."

X~X~X~X~X

A thin layer of sweat still glistened on their bodies as they lay together. Claire's head rested on his shoulder as she messed with his chest hair. Sylar stroked her arm and had his face up against her hair. She let out a contented sigh as he chuckled softly. Tilting her head up in curiosity, a still dazed looking Sylar grinned. "My body is telling me that was the best time it has ever had."

Though it was impossible for him to know that for sure, it didn't stop her from letting out a pleased laugh of her own. "Yeah," she agreed, brain muddled. "That was… yeah…" Embarrassed at the inability to communicate properly she ducked her head down.

"You don't regret this do you?"

"What? No," Claire insisted sitting up. "Why? Do you?"

"Not at all," he assured with an even bigger grin. As his fingers trailed along her back, he pointed out. "It all happened fast considering up until then you didn't want me to even touch you."

"No, I don't think I'll ever regret this," she repeated lying down. Hesitating, she added, "Doesn't mean I might not think this was a bad idea later."

Sylar's moving fingers on her arm faltered for a moment before continuing. "Is that because of the complete me?" Not needing to answer she remained silent, just enjoying his presence and touch. Out of the blue he stated, "If there was any question you could have asked me back then what would it have been?"

"Seriously?" asked Claire, turning so her chin rested on his chest. That was the last thing she had expected for him to say next. As odd the request and out of all the things he had done, there was one fact that popped up as odd in her head. "My shoes."

His eyebrow rose.

"The day that you took my ability. I was immobile, you were bleeding to death, and in minutes you would have had my power. But not only did you take the time to put me up on the coffee table, you also took off the shoes I was wearing. I was just wondering why?"

Sylar nodded thoughtfully. "That is bizarre."

Claire smiled faintly until something he had said earlier caught up with her. "You said 'the complete me'. Do you not feel alright?" He avoided her gaze, looking anywhere but at her. Though worried at what the answer may mean, she placed a hand on his cheek. "It's okay."

"A part of me is missing, Claire," he said. The light pouring in from the hall cast sharp shadows along his face causing the look of guilt to appear more intense. "My mind is lost and I want it back. It's better when I'm around you, but I can still feel that hole."

This was going to end badly, Claire was certain of it. Sooner or later, he would be back to his arrogant, selfish, murderous self with all the memories of their time together and undoubtedly he would find a way to use it against her. Despite this knowledge floating in the back of her brain, she didn't care.

Instead she once again sighed and settled comfortably against his shoulder. "We have right now at least." Sylar pressed his lips against the top of her head.

X~X~X~X~X

"She's been married seven times before! And everyone was an Henry, she wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam!" The persistent voice penetrated Matt's mind, waking him from his hazy sleep. The first thing he was aware of was the unspeakable pain in his torso every time he breathed or shifted. He doubted anything could be worse than this. "I'm her eighth old man, I'm Henry! Henry the VIII I am!"

He stood corrected. Moaning, Matt tried to bring his hands up to his ears to make the noise stop, but they had been strapped down. Opening his eyes for the first time in several days caused him to be blinded from the sunlight glaring through the window. The involuntary jerk his body exhibited made the imaginary figure by his bed clap his hands in joy.

"Finally!" exclaimed Sylar, leaning forward. "Seriously Matt, I can't even begin to tell you how _boring_ it has been just sitting here."

Groaning, Matt turned his head and closed his eyes in a vain attempt to block him out. "Come on, man. I just woke up from a coma after being shot."

"Yeah, I know, and whose fault was that?" Sylar tapped the side of Matt's head. Though incorporeal, the message got through. "And now you are locked away in here, suffering considerable physical pain, and no one but me to keep you company." Throwing back his head to laugh, Sylar leaned back in the chair he sat in. "Second verse, same as the first! Henry the VIII I am! Henry the VIII I am, I –"

"Stop! Stop!" pleaded Matt. "I hate that song."

"Oh, I know," informed Sylar smiling smugly. "I've been singing it for days hoping it would wake you up." Matt rolled his eyes and began to try to reach for the nurse call button by his side. Maybe if he was pumped full of drugs Sylar would go away temporarily. All he wanted at that moment was for the psychopath to leave him alone, forever preferably. "I'll tell you what. If you help me get my body back, I not only promise to never sing that song again, but I will never come after you and your family."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I am stuck in a hospital bed because my internal organs have been ripped to shreds."

"Your fault and what if I could heal you," Sylar offered. Matt studied his demeanor to determine he was absolutely serious. "I know a man in northern Oklahoma who has the ability to heal people with a single touch. A quick phone call and you'd be patched up, ready for some body hunting."

"Right," spat Matt sarcastically, finally getting a hold of the button, "why didn't you murder the man with an impressive power?"

"Because it's a power that I couldn't use for myself," he explained with a twisted sense of sincerity. "Even if I didn't already have the ability to heal, it's still not one I wouldn't take. I never could've used it on me."

As the nurse entered the room to check vitals, Matt starred at him for a few moments, contemplating the offer. Turning to the nurse he caught her eye and pushed a thought in. "Go to the phone at the registration desk…"

Sylar's lip quirked up.


	8. Chapter 7

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Nope, do not own at all.

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

A/N: Bad news, I had a _terrible_ case of writers block for this chapter. Good news, I continued writing beyond it while I was stuck, so there will be regular Saturday updates once again (Huzzah!)

A/N 2: As with the last chapter, note the rating increase. Once again smexy smexy time will be separated with a different divider if one wishes to skip over it.

* * *

Chapter 7

_I wanna just dance, but he took me home instead  
There was a Monster in my bed.  
We French kissed on a subway train  
He tore my clothes right off  
He ate my heart then he ate my brain._

_~ Monster; Lady Gaga_

"So, any questions?"

Sweetie sat at the table, elbows propped on the wooden surface and hand over her mouth in a contemplative manner. Claire shifted in her seat and spared a quick glance at Sylar as he sat in the seat next to her appearing completely relaxed by the situation. As promised, they explained to Sweetie about the presence of abilities in the world. The entire time the older woman had remained absolutely silent, nodding occasionally, before resuming her still position.

After a few moments of reflective silence, she announced, "I do have one question." Leaning back in the chair she eyed the pair sitting across from her, causing Claire to once again shift in her seat. Under the table, she felt Sylar slip his hand into hers and she relaxed slightly. "What have the two of you been doing for the past five days?"

Claire squeezed his hand as her eyes grew wide. "What?"

"No picking up the phone, no door answering, and yet I am certain the two of you haven't left this apartment."

"I've gone to class," she clarified, willing the blush to not fully reach her cheeks.

"Um hmm," agreed Sweetie sarcastically, know it all smirk on her lips. "But then you rush back here quick as possible. So exactly how much time in those five days involved you two wearing clothes?"

Sylar cleared his throat and looked away while Claire's face heated.

"Oh, I am going to enjoy this!" she laughed right out. "Both of you acting all shy, it's just so precious!"

"What makes you think…" began Claire, still somewhat tongue tied.

"Because my living room shares a wall with your living room and you pair aren't exactly subtle with your… fun time," she explained, waving a finger between them. Claire ducked her head wishing she could die from embarrassment as Sylar choked down a laugh. "You best be glad there's not a neighbor on the side with your bedroom."

"Okay, so you aren't at all freaked by the whole we have super powers thing?" asked Claire desperate to switch subjects.

"No," shrugged the other woman. "Why would I?"

"Because usually it's something people freak out about."

"You know someone with an ability," stated Sylar, understanding her calm attitude.

"You've got it, Sweet Cheeks," she replied pointing. "The love of my life, my first born daughter, and third born son all have abilities. Also my husband's best friend had one and he worked with a group of people in some sort of company."

"Your husband was a part of the Company?" asked Claire shocked.

"No, his friend was. A mind reader by the name of Charles Deveaux. The two never really saw eye to eye when it came to matters of specials versus non specials, but they always had each others backs in personal matters."

"If you knew the company, then you know my grandparents?" she asked cautiously.

Sweetie nodded. "I knew Arthur and Angela."

A wave of fear gripped at Claire as she nervously slipped a glance at her partner. "Do you… I mean, are you reporting on what I'm doing?"

"Report? To Angela? Hell no, we hate each other!" she announced with a laugh that was matched by the others in relief. "The last time I saw her was at my dear heart's funeral, was absolutely shocked that she even cared enough to be there."

"She does that on occasion, show a human heart," she clarified, just relieved that her family knew nothing about her roommate.

"I'll just take your word for it," Sweetie replied with a grimace. Checking her watch, she stood. "I've got to go run some errands before today ends, so if you'll excuse me."

The pair on the other side of the table also rose in order to give a farewell. Sylar shook her hand and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you for your patience," he said, stepping back.

"Oh, not a problem," she laughed, turning to accept Claire's hug. "I told you a little truth would go a long way with me."

"I'll keep that in mind for next time," she smiled. "Thank you so much."

"Till next time. Now, don't go doing anything I wouldn't," Sweetie said, offering a wink as she exited the apartment.

Claire squealed with pleasure as Sylar wrapped his arms around her so she couldn't wriggle free. He nibbled at her neck, darkly inquiring, "Didn't that sound like a dare to you?"

"Definitely," she agreed. He leaned his head around to catch her lips, an action she was more than pleased to act upon. A slight level of frustration ran through her as she couldn't turn around to move things forward. Just as things were about to become heated, Claire's phone started to ring in her back pocket. Despite his attempts to continue, she managed to pull out of the kiss recognizing the ring tone, "It's my uncle, I have to get that."

One arm kept her firmly up against him while the other hand traveled along the side of her body. Her breath caught as fingers trailed along her skin at the top of the jeans. Mouth by her ear, he whispered, "You have to get it from me first." With a quick move of the hand he reached in the pocket to grab the phone.

Releasing her, Sylar took a few steps back waving the mobile in a mocking manner. Giving a fake pout, Claire put her hands on her hips. She fast reached out to take it, but he simply lifted it out of reach forcing her to jump. Knowing that the phone would soon go to voicemail, she frowned even more before poking two fingers into his ribs. A puff of wind escaped Sylar as he bent over enough for Claire to snatch the mobile away with a giggle. She pressed the accept button grinning. "Peter, what's up?" There was a deafening silence on the other end. "Are you alright? Peter?"

"Claire," he choked out, a voice thick with restrained emotion. Clearing his throat to gain control he continued, "I need to talk to you about something important. Are you at your apartment? Alone?"

Leaning against the table she raised her eyes to look at the man who stood patiently a few feet away. "Yeah, of course I am. What's wrong?"

The long pauses and somber attitude her uncle used put a worried pit on her stomach. "I've been looking for – for Nathan during the last two weeks. Went to see his secretary, personal assistants, campaign manager, and they all said he had sent e-mails about a vacation. They all thought it was odd, but none of them were worried especially since instructional e-mails kept coming in."

"So where is he?" she asked, wanting to get to the point.

"I still couldn't find him so I asked Mom where he had gone and all she would do was reassure me he was fine," Peter continued, ignoring her question. "After days of no news, Rene came to me yesterday with an address to a private storage locker and a key. When I checked in I noticed the last time anyone had been there was in June."

"So what happened to Nathan? Where is he?" she demanded, not willing to jump to conclusions.

"The only thing inside is a large container with…Nathan. Nathan's body is in it," he finished weakly.

"No." Claire felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. Her mind on autopilot she half walked half stumbled to the kitchen. Leaning her elbow on the counter near the sink, she spoke, "Nathan's dead?"

"Yea."

"Are you sure?"

"I am sitting next to his body, Claire. I'm positive," Peter yelled harsh enough to make her jump. On the other side, he sighed. "I'm sorry."

Not even registering his apology, she processed her next question. "How did it happen?"

Another sigh preceded his response, "I'm not completely sure, but his throat had been sewn shut. So probably…"

"Yeah," she whispered cutting him off, not caring to hear the rest. As dizzy as she was becoming with the news, one piece of information suddenly floated to her mind's surface. "Wait, did you say the last time it was opened was June?"

"You caught that, huh?"

"Then who the hell has been walking around since then?"

"I would guess the same man who slit his throat." At that proclamation Claire's throat closed. She knew where this was likely to go and she knew it was going to be the truth. "I think we both know that Sylar was the one who did this."

Her vision blurred, but she refused to completely loose her head yet. "We can't know that for sure."

"Can't know for sure! You and I both know it's most likely," he argued, causing her to desperately think of something different to say.

"Do you need me to come see you? Do anything?" she asked wiping away tears before they fell.

"No, stay there. I need you to pretend you don't know anything."

"What! I will not!" she exclaimed, furious at the suggestion.

"I'm not done looking into this, yet," Peter explained sounding absolutely exhausted. "I wanted you to know so you could keep your eyes open for any dopplegangers. I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you too."

Sniffing a little bit she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "You should talk to my dad… I-I mean Noah, obviously – "

"It's alright, Claire, he's still you're Dad, too."

She nodded even though he couldn't see. "You should talk to him. I know he has more answers than he's letting on."

"Thank you," he sighed. "Stay safe."

"You too," she managed to crack out before numbly dropping the mobile device on the counter top. Hunching over the sink, Claire closed her eyes as she let the grief to wash over her. She allowed herself a few audible sobs before pulling it back together. Gripping tightly to the cool metal she prepared to question the man she had been having sex with. A wave of nausea overcame her for a second but she pushed it back down.

Turning around she wasn't surprised to see Sylar leaning against the wall. "What bad news was it?"

"Was it you?"

He remained silent until she elaborated.

"Did you kill Nathan?"

"I don't know," he stated in a muted voice. "I just see faces. I don't know any of their names."

Deep down she knew he was being sincere, but Claire couldn't help but be infuriated by his lack of answers. She retreated to her bedroom to fetch a photograph. A little crinkled around the corners, she weakly smiled at the photograph of Peter and Nathan from the wedding day. Returning to where Sylar waited she shoved the picture into his hands. "Him. The one on the left. Did you slit his throat?"

Sylar inspected the image for a few moments before he closed his eyes. Eyelids flickered as he mentally filed through his victims. His face twitched from the pain of remembering all of them, but Claire didn't care in the least given the current circumstances. The eyes quit twitching yet they didn't open. The instant his head dropped, a gasp of dismay escaped her as he muttered, "Yes. I'm sorry."

The world swam around the edges of her vision. She stumbled backwards, disoriented when the wall caught her. Sylar apparently heard her movement and he reached out to assist. Unable to focus on anything, Claire flinched away screaming, "Don't touch me!" His arm snapped back instantly looking shamed. She immediately regretted her verbal attack. "I – I didn't mean… I'm sor –"

"Don't apologize," he instructed. She continued to head down the hall backwards. Upon reaching the bathroom she spun around to lock herself inside.

Trembling, Claire slid down to the floor. As she watched her hands shake facts piled in her brain. Nathan had been dead for months and Sylar had been the one to kill him. The same Sylar who murdered her birth mother. The same Sylar who had murdered countless others. The same Sylar who she had been having sex with. Make that incredibly fantastic sex. But now the fact she had enjoyed it only made her feel physically ill. Somehow she had been able to ignore his true nature, for what? Her own selfish desires?

Knots repeatedly tied and untied in her stomach. Unable to stop herself, she lunged to the toilet just before she became sick. Once finished Claire laid down on the floor to cool off, wondering when was the last time she threw up like that as tears flowed across her face. "This isn't fair," she murmured to herself, hugging knees to her chest. Not knowing how much time had passed, as the crying subsided one fact rang clearly in her mind. With the exception of the death of her father, none of this was new information.

Nonetheless, this was to be a wakeup call. Sylar had to go. Despite the additional weight to her heart with the decision, she would accept no excuses and no exceptions; it was time to be done. With shaky legs Claire stood to rinse her mouth with mouthwash so as to remove the stale taste that lingered. Looking into the mirror she saw a tired puffy eyed girl starring back. Taking a deep breath Claire tried to fill herself with confidence she feared she couldn't bring forth.

He had to leave, she repeated in her head several times.

Before she could delay any longer, Claire swung the door open. As expected, Sylar had stood waiting for her to exit. His arm twitched as though he wanted to touch her, but it remained at his side. As she opened her mouth to make her request, he announced, "I'll leave."

In response to his sudden declaration, Claire's head snapped back as though it were never an option she had considered. "What?"

"If you need me to, I'll leave," he repeated, eyes not quite meeting hers as though hoping for an alternative. "Me being here will only make things more difficult for you, so I'll go –"

"No," she interrupted forcefully, a bit surprised at her change of heart. The eyebrow Sylar raised proposed more questions than anything he could have asked at that moment so she continued. "I know how twisted and odd this sounds, but I need you. With you I don't have to lie or hide things, I can just be normal. I really need normal right now. And as strange as it is, you're normal for me."

He only nodded slowly, obviously prepared for her to change her mind at any second. Claire nodded back in response and, suddenly feeling very alone inside, stepped up to embrace him. Burying her face into his chest a new wave of tears emerged that she couldn't attempt to stop. Hesitantly, Sylar held her close and kissed the top of her head. "I'm still sorry."

"I just can't believe he's gone," she croaked out, not at all stopping the sobs. After some time passed, Claire felt her body become slack but was too exhausted to move. Sylar slid down to the floor with her, still holding her tightly. Once lying on the carpet, with heavy eyes she saw Sylar wave his hand. The warmth of him was contrasted momentarily with the coolness of a blanket covering them. Soon enough everything became warm again and Claire fell asleep in the arms of the one person who ironically could help her deal with grief.

X~X~X~X~X

Sylar lay on the couch holding Claire on top of him. Stroking her hair he mentally reviewed the events of the previous days. Just as he had depended upon her in the beginning, she leaned heavily on him since learning of her father's murder. He was only happy to return the favor. Claire had shared stories of her time with Nathan and it was during those times he wished that he had something to contribute.

She had asked for normal, and he had done his best to do just that.

The physical side of their relationship began again days after the horrible news. Sylar had refused her the first time she tried to start back up, wanting to be sure she wasn't trying to somehow punish herself. It hadn't taken long for her to convince him that things were definitely alright, not great but he would take it.

Just as he recalled their shower reconnection Claire shifted on top of him. Given his current mind wanderings, he remained completely still to determine if she was uncomfortable or sexually restless. When she wriggled again, specifically on top of his crotch, he responded with a groan and a hip move of his own. "Is there something I can do for you?" she inquired innocently, batting eyelashes.

Q~Q~Q~Q~Q

The wicked gleam in her eye sent a thrill down his spine. He didn't have a chance to reply before she tugged at the shirt to get it off his body and he leaned up enough to help her. As soon as the material was off Claire pushed him back down before proceeding to kiss along his collar bone and down his chest. Her enthusiasm aroused him even more than he already was. Sylar noted that she was wearing one of his buttoned shirts, so taking advantage of her distracted actions he reached down to unbutton the fabric. To his surprise and pleasure, it was already undone.

Once again mischievous eyes glanced up to him, knowing full well what he discovered. Sylar chuckled in response before hissing in air between his teeth as her hands slid up his thighs. It was her turn to laugh as wet kisses continued down to his stomach. Small fingers worked at the fly on his jeans and in no time the pants were down. She moved her mouth along his pelvic bone and hands along the upper portions of his legs, paying attention to any area but the one place he really craved. He gripped at the couch and groaned in frustration.

When Claire's lips finally came in contact with his member it took a considerable amount of will power not to buck his hips. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as she worked at him. He could feel her hips rubbing against his leg and the moans from her throat indicated she was getting some pleasurable friction for herself. Desire for her grew in his belly as he wanted more physical contact. Yet at the same time, what she was doing to him felt so damn good. Sylar's head fell back when she turned her attention to his balls, her hands taking over where her mouth had just been. Blood pumped through his body at a faster rate and he knew he was close to finishing.

"Claire, you need to stop," he rasped out, not recognizing his own voice. He heard her muffle giggle as her hand began to stroke faster. Sylar held his breath, briefly contemplating allowing her to complete her task as he clutched her hair, but instead reached down to bring her up. Her lips popped when she released him.

Slithering up along his chest with a playful pout, she whined, "Are you ever going to let me finish doing that one day?"

"I told you," he began insistently. He brought her up more with the pretense of a kiss, which he took, but he also reached a hand down the front of her sweatpants. Once his fingers came in contact with her folds, Claire let out a squeak of surprise and he rumbled with laughter. "I like to watch you come first."

"Well, if I have to," she sighed with a fake burden in her tone. A little maneuvering and her pants were finally off with her straddling his waist.

She began to pull the shirt off as well, but he stopped her. "Keep it on," he requested, touching the skin that was visible from chest to navel. The way the fabric moved was a tease of what he knew lay underneath.

His hands settled on her hips, holding on to help her onto him. When he slowly slid all the way inside her, a deep growl grew in his throat as she cried out. Sylar's fingers dug deeply into her hips as a rhythm started between them. As more momentum built Claire leaned her palms against his chest, probably to remain steady. The first time they had tried to make love on the couch, both ended up falling to the ground. Though amusing, it wasn't anything they planned on repeating.

The tightening in his gut meant the earlier work Claire had performed on him was catching up. At this angle it would still take her awhile to achieve her release. Still inside her, he sat up so his back was against the back of the couch. At the new angle, he hit new areas causing her to squeal. From this position he was able to thrust faster, a pace that she matched enthusiastically. His shirt slid off of one of her shoulders revealing a breast. Smirking he leaned forward and took her nipple in between his teeth.

A series of sharp gasps from Claire indicated she was close. Though he was also close to an orgasm, he was determined to keep his promise. With a few more deep thrusts Sylar sucked on her nipple again, but to his great surprise a small amount of electricity shot from his tongue to the bud.

She screamed his name from the intensity of the experience, riding her high out by continuing to ride him. His name never sounded as wonderful as when it came from her lips. The sight of her losing control at his hand, or any other part of his body, was enough to put him over the edge. Muscles all over his body tightened as he too came, yelling incoherently. When he became aware of his surroundings once more, Claire was placing kisses along his shoulder.

Q~Q~Q~Q~Q

"I will never get tired of that," she exhaled heavily, burying her face into his neck.

"Glad to know I'm doing my job well," Sylar stated amused, letting out a gruff laugh. He resumed stroking her hair as before. Allowing the quiet moment to continue, an idea struck him. "We should leave."

"You want to go out somewhere?"

"No, I mean we should drop everything and leave Arlington," Sylar clarified. Her body stiffened against him, so he continued before she could protest. "At least get out of the area, maybe even out of the country. A fresh start for us both, I know that's something you would like."

Her silence made him stop breathing, worried she would become angry. "A fresh start would be nice," Claire agreed softly, not moving to look at him. Though she didn't exactly jump at the suggestion, he could feel she wasn't lying which filled him with hope.

An urgent knock at the door broke the daydream.


	9. Chapter 8

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Nope, do not own at all.

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

* * *

_Ain't no mercy there for me.  
Do you bury me when I'm gone?  
Do you teach me while I'm here?  
Just as soon as I belong,  
Then it's time I disappear._

_~ I Disappear, Metallica_

An urgent knock at the door broke the daydream as Claire got up to answer it. Sylar watched her quickly groom herself decent as she went. Standing he did the same, finishing just as Sweetie swept into the room. "A little bit of a problem," she announced with controlled panic, pausing for a moment when she absorbed the state of her attire. "Did I just interrupt something?"

"No, no, not at all," rushed Claire with a higher pitched, obvious lie voice.

He grinned and made eye contact with Sweetie to indicate otherwise. When she didn't grin back as she normally would, Sylar felt his body become alert. "Sweetie, what's wrong?"

"There's a mind reader downstairs and he is asking a lot of questions. I tried not to let him know anything, but you know, mind reader."

"You sure he was a telepath?" Claire asked, throwing a worried glance at him.

"My husband was best friends with one until his death. Trust me, I can tell." She pursed her lips in disapproval, "Plus I don't appreciate having ideas pushed into my head. He was desperate, so it was sloppy and it hurt."

"What did he look like?"

"Dark hair, dark eyes, white boy, about my height, when he flashed his badge his name I think started with an M –"

"Parkman?" she exclaimed. "What's he doing in Arlington?"

"I take it you know him?" inquired Sylar though he knew the answer. He just needed a better feel on the problem.

"Yeah, I haven't seen him since –" She cut herself off, more worry filtering into her eyes as she looked at him. "It's just been awhile."

"Not much longer, cuz I can tell you he will be on his way up here soon," Sweetie gestured with her thumb towards the hallway.

Claire's eyes grew wide as she ushered the woman to the door. "Go, hopefully he won't see you." Whirling around, she picked up a pair of shoes and tossed them to Sylar. "You need to get out of here too. Through the window."

He put on the shoes while Claire went to the window to open it, sticking her head out to try and spot the visitors. Finishing, he went over to where she was. Understanding the severity of the situation, he still felt a pull to take the time to comfort her. Her restlessness affected him in ways he couldn't believe. Since he had become aware of his existence, the only honest constant had been her.

Approaching her from behind, Sylar wrapped his arms to hold her and placed a kiss on top of her head. As her muscles eased in their tension slightly he whispered into her ear, "It will be fine. We don't even know why he's here."

She nodded against his chest as a knock sounded. "You're right. But you should still go. Matt _really_ doesn't like you."

Letting out a small chuckle, he stepped around to the sill. Before she could step away he gently pulled her towards him to land a kiss. Though simple and short, Claire returned it in full. The next knock was what broke them apart. With a lip pop they both looked to the door. "Go," she instructed, nudging him gently. "I'll come find you when everything is alright."

She laid one more quick kiss on him before going to let Matt in. Crouching on the sill, Sylar glanced over his shoulder to get one more look at what could only be described as his universe. As he took flight, something deep inside him knew Claire's last statement wouldn't ring true. Everything wouldn't be alright again.

X~X~X~X~X

Matt knocked on the door again as he propped an arm against the door jam. His unwanted specter leaned against the wall next to him, not at all trying to hide his satisfaction with the situation. "In a hurry, Parkman?"

"Extremely," he signed, exasperated. "Are you positive you're in there?"

"Yup," he answered, almost giddy with excitement. "Though I don't know who else is."

"Well I don't care, because they are not going to stand in my way of getting your ungrateful, crazy mind out of mine."

"And is that any way to treat me after I saved your life?"

"Except you did that to save your own ass."

Sylar nodded to the side acknowledging the comment. "That's true."

The door swung open to reveal a slightly disheveled Claire Bennett. Her eyes grew wide with surprise, mimicking his own, as she stepped forward for a hug. "Matt! It's good to see you. Is everything okay?"

Matt returned the hug, eyes going up to see Sylar already in the apartment behind Claire shrugging his shoulders before looking all around. Once allowed inside he began examining things as well. The nearby table had a crystal bowel centerpiece and two sets of dirty dishes. Shoes neatly by the door, a large space between 3 sets of female shoes which indicated a missing pair. "Fine. Everything's fine," he breathed out, watching Sylar walk up and down the hall. "How are you?"

She flipped her hands down at her side. "Fine too."

"I must have just left," stated Sylar reentering the sitting room. "But I can tell I was just here."

"You sure?" asked Matt while keeping eye contact with Claire, but directing the question to the other person in the room.

"Of course," she answered slowly in confusion.

"Positive," he replied coming to stand next to Claire. "I told you I can sense where I am, it's like a mask was taken off." He took a moment to side glance the blonde at his side. "Does she look off to you?"

"Can I get you something to drink?" she offered heading to the kitchen.

"Yeah, iced tea would be great," he suggested with a smile, struggling to contain his worried bewilderment. Smiling back she left the room and he turned his attention to the ghost. "Something is very weird here."

"Maybe you should check out the rest of the apartment," suggested Sylar, still looking where Claire exited the room.

Getting into his face, Matt pointed a finger, "Do not put any images into my head, or so help me –"

"Hey, I am just as confused as you are Parkman," he admitted, nodding in the direction of the girl. "I don't understand how she fits into this, but quite frankly, I don't care. I just want my body."

Going towards the little kitchen, Matt poked his head in. "Could I use your restroom before we get started?"

"Yeah," she agreed while pouring. "It's just down the hall to the right. Can't miss it."

"Thanks." As Matt turned he noted that Claire's bedroom was shut, so he instead went straight to the bathroom. Looking into the mirror as he swung the door closed, Sylar's form appeared behind him. Talking out what he saw, Matt observed, "From what I can tell there are doubles of everything in here. Toothbrushes, shampoos, towels, shaving kits. Half for Claire, half for a man."

"Has Claire Bennett been a naughty girl with a night time visitor?" stated Sylar, still endlessly amused with the situation. Leaning towards the darker bottles in the shower, he observed, "This is stuff I use." He came over to read the label of shaving cream and deodorant Matt held, "I use this too, you know, when I'm corporeal."

Suddenly, a series of events clicked in Matt's brain. The hygiene supplies, the shoes which likely led to more men's clothing, the pair of dishes, Claire's outfit with the messed up hair, men's button up shirt, the sweat pants… "Oh my God…"

Sylar's jaw dropped as he evidently connected the dots at the same time. "I slept with Claire Bennett," he muttered in complete shock, staring through the barrier as though he could see her through it. Waiting a beat, he turned toward to Matt. "And I missed it!" Matt rolled his eyes at what he caught from the realization. "Come on, Parkman, you have got to admit, that is not fair!"

"Matt, you alright in there?" came the girl in question's voice.

"Uh, yeah, just finishing up," he spit out, still in a little world of shock. Flushing the toilet and running the water from the faucet, Matt splashed water on his face to get a hold of himself.

When he reentered the living room, Claire stood up to hand him a glass of iced tea. "So what brings you here?"

"Ask her how the sex was," requested Sylar all of a sudden very smug with the recent development.

Throwing a side glare at the annoyance in the room, he worked to focus all his attention on Claire. "I'm actually looking for someone and I've heard whoever lives here might be able to help. Had no idea it was you until I got here."

Sylar distractedly walked from side to side inspecting her, head tilted as though considering her as prey. "If I can," she offered with a shrug. "Who is it?"

"It's Sylar."

Claire's eyes grew unmistakably wide as she let out a nervous laugh. "He's dead, Matt. I don't even know where he's buried, so I'm not too sure how I could help you there."

"She's lying."

"Probably because you've been sleeping with him," pointed out Matt, not wanting to waste anymore time.

"Nice one, sliding right into that."

Instead of a panicked expression, Claire's face locked into one that indicated she was closed off as she set her tea down. "Get out of my head, Matt."

"Oh, I'm not even in there yet," he informed, mimicking her action with his beverage. "And I'll stay out of your mind as long as you tell me what I want to know."

"Jumping ahead now to playing hardball, someone's getting desperate."

Her eyes narrowed as she tilted her head. "I don't appreciate being threatened."

"Then tell me where he is," demanded Matt, taking a step forward.

"Well lucky for me, I don't know where Sylar went to. And why do you need to know anyway?" she asked taking a step back.

"Last chance, Claire," his voice rose without being able to stop himself. "I have to find him."

"Why?" she asked concerned.

"Tell me!" he yelled, pinning her shoulders against the wall.

"I don't know!" she shouted back pushing him away.

"She's telling the truth, Parkman," defended Sylar, not appreciating the aggressive way he was handling the situation. "Back off."

"No, you back off!" snapped Matt, still holding Claire to the wall.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Who are you talking to?"

Matt looked back at her, leaning his head to the side. "If you won't tell me, I'll just have to take it from you." Widening his mind, he pushed into Claire's head to extract the information he needed. But when he tried to even just get a glimpse of her brain, there was nothing. Frowning he tried harder, but was only met with emptiness again. Momentarily thinking that something was wrong with his ability Matt concentrated on the minds in the neighboring apartments and could hear them clear as day. So why wasn't it working on her?

"Stop it!" Claire yelled still trying to fight him off. "I don't know where he is! So stay out of my head!"

"I can't get in there," Matt murmured in shock.

Sylar looked back and forth between them trying to figure out what went wrong. "Why not?"

"I don't know why not," he stated, just as sullen as before, trying even harder to scan her mind. His grip loosened on Claire for a second so she took the opportunity to try and step away, but it only served to snap him back into a panicked rage. Squeezing even tighter onto her arms, he slammed her against the wall. "Why can't I read your mind?"

"Easy, Parkman!"

Blinking away the jolt, Claire took a moment to answer which resulted in another shake. "I don't know, maybe something's wrong with your power."

"I can hear everyone in this apartment building except for you," he explained with another rough push. "Why can't I hear yours!"

"Cut it out! I said I don't know!" Claire yelled back, squirming to get away.

"You're lying then!"

"Why would I lie about that!"

"Matt, that's enough!"

"Is it because of him?" demanded Matt, not thinking straight, only focused on getting answers. "You fuck Sylar, so now abilities won't work on you! It also gives you the right to keep secrets!"

"Get off of me!"

"I said that was enough." Sylar stepped up to Matt, putting his hand through his head. The telepath flinched and cried out in pain as Sylar worked to take control. He loved having corporeal form no matter how he got a hold of it. Once back in control, basic sensations were always more intense. The one thing he was acutely aware of was the body heat rolling off of the woman in front of him. "You have no idea what answers you really want, so it's my turn."

Matt shook his head and all of a sudden found himself outside his body, looking at Sylar pressed against Claire. "No, that's not fair! Put me back!"

"No way…" gasped Claire, eyes wide as she looked at the man pinning her.

"Shut up and make it so she can see me," instructed Sylar, only making eye contact with Claire.

"Even if I could, my power isn't working on her," he informed, standing helplessly to the side.

"I can see you just fine, Sylar," murmured Claire, face still in shock. Equally stunned by her admission, he released her. "So this is where your mind disappeared to."

"How do you know about that?" he demanded calmly, all things considered. "And for that matter, how can you see me?"

"How did you get in there?"

"What makes you think she's going to answer your questions, Sylar?"

All the voices overlapped each other so Sylar put his hands up. "One question and one answer at a time please!"

"Is Matt still here? Is he alright?" asked Claire, looking around to try and see the third party.

"He's pacing right over there," he pointed. "And if by fine you mean annoyingly giving advice, then sure."

She cracked a grin. "So he's your Jiminy Cricket?"

Sylar held up a finger. "My turn." When her lips bit closed in annoyance he continued. "I believe you when you say you don't know where my body is, but you do know how to find me, don't you?"

Stony faced, Claire looked down knowing she would not be able to fool him. "Yes."

"Ah, I knew it!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "You see," he addressed Matt, "it's all in how the question gets asked." Readdressing the blonde, he nodded at her, "Your question now."

"I don't get a turn?" yelled Matt, getting up into his face.

"You're not in control of the body, so no," snapped Sylar, before returning his focus forward.

Her eyes flicked from his to the apparent dead space beside him. Beginning slowly, she asked, "How did you even get into Matt's head in the first place?"

"Well, your grandmother, dear old Dad, and this guy here decided to take full advantage of my shapeshifting ability by forcing my mind out of my body and shoving the memories of your bio-Dad in." Her eyes grew steadily wider as he spoke, leaving him to grin and shrug. "Side effect, my brain had to go somewhere. So it got shoved into this useless hunk of flesh."

"Hey!"

"Why would you do that!" she yelled, but it wasn't directed at Sylar. She was yelling at where Parkman stood next to him. "What would possibly make you believe that would be a good idea!"

Sylar leaned over, "I don't think she's mad at me right now."

"Oh, I will get to you in a minute!" she side scolded before turning back to air. "Did you even stop to think how this would affect everyone? Did you honestly believe that we would never find out?"

"How did you find my body?" he interrupted, suddenly bored rehearing the information he already knew.

Angry eyes snapped back at him. He could tell she was about to argue, but instead settled on giving an answer. "You ran into me in an alleyway about 3 weeks ago," she admitted, voice wavy with emotion. "You had all your powers, could remember everyone you murdered, but that was all you knew about yourself. Your mind is completely wiped, which makes sense now."

The corner of his lip lifted. "So was it pity or curiosity that made you slept with me?"

Claire's eyes narrowed and he took pleasure at the anger rolling off of her. "Why now? All this time later, why now have you started the hunt for yourself?"

"I…I wasn't in control," he admitted, finding the words difficult to state.

"You must've hated that," she observed, completely amused for the first time since he had seen her here. "The man who craves power and control could have neither." He sneered in response and turned away. "You don't even have Matt's power now do you?"

"My turn," Sylar gritted out, eager to move on. "Where was my body before you found it?"

Letting the moment pass, she continued, "I'm not completely sure. Though, from the story you just told me, I'm pretty sure you've been walking around being Nathan for more than a few months."

"Well isn't that… precious," he spat.

"You never did answer, are you in control of Matt's telepathy?"

"No. Now, I have one question that you have to answer in complete honesty." He spoke with utmost seriousness and came up close to her as though wanting to share a life saving secret. "How was the sex?"

Rolling her eyes she stepped away, "It really is all guys think about, isn't it?"

"Come on, man, back off. I really don't want to hear this."

"I mean, it sounds as though it was a repeat thing," Sylar reason, loving the way Claire squirmed and tried to avoid the blatant truth.

"I am not going to stroke your ego," she snapped, making it sound as though the conversation were finished.

"It wasn't my ego I was talking about," he suggested. She put her head in her hands and turned away. "Oh, don't be shy. I have a feeling that's not your style. I see you more wild, liking things a little rougher –"

"Okay, fine!" she turned, appearing taller and full of confidence. "Yes, we had sex! We had a lot of sex. We had sex several different ways in every room in this apartment, and even some outside of it. You even told me, that I was the best you had ever had. And you know what the best part about all of that is, right at this moment?" Her words were laced with sensuality. With every sentence she had moved closer until she was up near him, not quite touching, but the building energy nearly caused Sylar to snap. "That for the rest of Matt's life, you're going to be left wondering what that was like."

Stepping back, Claire laughed mockingly at him. Not appreciating being shut down so rapidly, Sylar growled and pulled her up against him roughly. One arm pinned her waist to him tightly and the other came up her back to hold her neck. Her laughter stopped with a sharp breath intake. Once again with the upper hand, he was more than glad to put her in uncomfortable, yet familiar territory. She didn't struggle against him so he pressed his luck by hovering his lips over hers. "We could change that right now."

"I think I'm going to be sick," uttered Matt, ignored off to the side.

Sylar ignored his mental ghost, focusing intently on the blonde in his arms, all other goals were temporarily forgotten. Her hand came up though it was going to run through his hair, but instead it came to rest on his chest as a sign of resistance. "It wouldn't be the same, and you know it."

Giving her a slight taste of freedom, he allowed Claire to gain a little bit of distance away from him before yanking her back into him. As soon as their chests collided, he dropped his mouth down onto hers. Devouring her, Sylar clung tightly onto her small frame, relishing every moment of the kiss. The way she responded surprised him a little, but he was more pleased with her enthusiasm. There was no way he was going to let her get away with only words of their time together, he needed some sort of example, no matter how simple. Pulling back with a little shiver, from who he wasn't sure, he whispered, "Bring my body to me, Claire."

"She's not going to do it! Not after that stunt you just pulled!" exclaimed Matt, still off to the side and almost entirely forgotten. "We should leave and follow her. She's going to come across you sooner or later –"

"Answer me one last question," Claire demanded, somewhat shaky. "And you had better tell me the truth. No lies, no tricks, 'pity me' pleas, no trying to tell me what you think I want to hear, and no long winded speeches. To the point, complete honesty."

"Alright," he agreed, not entirely sure if he was going to keep his promise.

"Why do you want your body back?"

He stared at her for a beat. "Seriously? Why wouldn't I want my body back?"

"Just the first thing that comes to your head."

"Great, you're stuck here forever now," sighed Matt, tapping his head.

Sylar pushed down any innuendo or sarcastic comment that nearly came out of his mouth and instead just closed his eyes, trying to make his mind quiet. "Because a part of me is missing, Claire. My body is lost and I want it back. It's better now than it has been in a long while, but I can still feel that hole." Opening his eyes he found a pale Claire holding her breath. "Wrong answer?"

"No," she choked out pushing out of his arms, running hands through her hair. "No. Just… Just wait here. Let me get changed and I'll go find you."


	10. Chapter 9

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I wish, but not mine.

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

* * *

_Watching you dress as you turn down the lights  
I forget all about the storm outside  
Dark clouds roll their way over town  
Heartache and pain came pouring down  
Like hail, sleet and rain yeah they're handing it out_

_~ Crossfire, Brandon Flowers_

Standing on the top of a neighboring building Sylar waited for Claire to exit the apartment complex. Time moved slowly as he watched. Though he remained on the side of Claire's apartment, he could see nothing that was happening inside. Finally, Claire walked out the front door to the street. She looked around for a moment before turning left, walking in the opposite direction he was. He didn't go after her until she turned the corner.

Flying down, Sylar picked her up and landed on another nearby rooftop. As soon as feet touched the concrete, Claire stepped away not looking at him. He wanted to give her time to collect her thoughts, but a sense of urgency in the air made him ask. "He was looking for me, wasn't he?"

"Yeah," she breathed out, still not looking at him. "He has your memories. And he knows how to give them back to you."

Her response was barely a whisper, but what was said screamed in his head. A flare of elation sparked within him and the urge to speed back to the apartment was almost overwhelming. "Is he still there?"

"For now," she admitted, finally turning around, face reflecting controlled calm. "You could go back to the apartment now; or we could go off to do that fantasy. The one you were talking about before Sweetie came in." Sylar remained still as she continued with a shaky voice. "Matt's not going to be hard to find. We could leave for awhile and he would be here whenever we came back."

The plea she gave made a certain amount of sense to Sylar. Both had a strong appeal, but he didn't know how to begin to choose. "What do you think I should do?"

Claire vigorously shook her head, "No, I'm not going to push you one way or the other."

"I'm asking for your opinion, that's all."

"It's not just my opinion, I tell you what I want and you'll do it," she explained sounding exhausted. Her reasoning briefly angered him, only because he knew she was right. "If there's one thing you hate, it's being manipulated. I hate it, too. That's why this choice has to be all up to you."

Sylar heaved a heavy sigh. He didn't really need to ask which one she wanted, the hopeful expression her face held gave the obvious answer. Despite this knowledge, it was one he knew nearly instantly he couldn't give her. Even after everything she had done to help, all she had gone through because of him; he knew he was going to make her suffer more. The thought tore him up inside, but it had to be done.

"You know I'm lost, Claire," he stated evenly, struggling to keep facing her. "I have to go back now."

The strong resolve she painstakingly put up broke as she dissolved into tears. "I knew you'd say that," she hitched a sobbed. She half walked away before changing her mind and spinning around. "You know what, when I asked your other half why he needed to be complete, he gave the exact same reasoning you did. I knew what you'd choose, but I didn't think it'd hurt…"

Instantly he moved to her side, holding her endlessly shaking form tightly. "I don't want to do this to you –"

"Just stop," she requested, trying to pull away.

"No, listen to me," he insisted, using a hand to force her to look at him. "I don't want to do this to you. You have helped me more than I believed any other person could, even though you had the most reason not to. You're strong, you're compassionate, you're a fighter. Who says we can't still be together after my memories come back."

"I don't think we can," she croaked, leaning back into him shaking her head into his chest.

Allowing a few more moments of holding her, the crushing disappointment coursed through him. Just like in her position, Sylar knew what she was going to say, but it still hurt considerably. He pulled away just enough to tuck her hair back into place. Knowing this may be the last time he was to be alone with her, he couldn't stop himself. "I love you, Claire."

Watery eyes looked back at him as she began to reply, "I –"

Not allowing her to finish, he put a finger over her mouth, "No."

"Why not?" she demanded, stricken with confusion and more pain.

"Because if you're just saying it to say it, I couldn't bear the lie; and if you really mean it, I can't bear knowing you really do if I can't have you," Sylar explained cradling her cheek, his own chest compressing as he spoke.

She shook her head, crying starting up again. "That's not fair."

"I know," he whispered, holding her tightly one last time. "I know."

X~X~X~X~X

"How can you just sit there and do nothing?" demanded Matt pacing back and forth.

"She said to give her an hour, so I'm giving her an hour," Sylar answered patiently, sitting on the couch with one leg crossed over the other.

"You're awfully patient for a man who has been relentless with what he wants."

"Relax, Parkman, the end of this nightmare is in sight." He patted the cushion near him. "Take a load off. Not like in that form any of that moving around will actually help you lose weight."

"You are such an ass."

At the click of the door Sylar stood and clapped his hands. "Well, look at that," he marveled as he saw himself walk through the doorway with Claire following close behind. "It is about time I got here." He turned to address the ghost in the room. "Now, time for you to do your thing."

"Who is he talking to?" inquired his body to Claire.

"Matt's still in there and they can talk to each other, or yell at each other I guess." She didn't have to reach far to place a hand on his arm, a simple motion that didn't go unnoticed by him. "I did say you're normally insane, but not that type of insane."

"Hey!"

She glared across the room, "Even you admit it."

Sylar tilted his head in acknowledgement as the spirit to his side sighed. "I need to be in control to do this," Matt informed. "I have to be able to use my ability."

He groaned out in frustration, "Constant give and take with you."

"What are you talking about, you're the one who does most of the taking," he pointed out, suddenly next to Sylar.

"Yeah, and I'd like it to stay that way for now," he threatened. He closed his eyes, forcing the body he was in to relax. Just prior to Matt switched places, Sylar opened one eye to the couple before him. "See you on the other side," he indicated to himself. To Claire he smirked, "And I can't wait to remember more of you at the same time."

Sylar blew a kiss in her direction and his other self made a move to physically attack him. Claire grabbed his arm and shoulder, pulling him back towards her, "Stop, it's not worth it."

Matt anxiously observed the situation from the side, hoping deep down he had the guts to go through with his plan. Before Sylar could say anything else, he took advantage of the distraction by slipping back into his own body. Taking a moment Matt focused down at his fingers, wriggling them just to be certain he could feel everything. Satisfied he looked up seeing Claire and two Sylar's in the room. "That is weird."

"You alright, Matt?" asked Claire with concern, but remaining at a distance from him.

"Yeah," he exhaled, wishing the moment would be over with.

"Come on," goaded mental Sylar, who was sitting on the couch in front of everyone. "We're all waiting on you."

"I'm getting there," he murmured. Gesturing to the side, he instructed, "Claire, could you go over there for right now. I don't want any other minds accidentally getting in the way."

"But you said your power wasn't working on me –"

"Just go over there! Please," he yelled, composing himself by the end. She glared at him with evidence of unshed tears in her eyes, but moved as he requested. He noted the hand squeeze the other Sylar gave her before they separated. As the man in front of Matt put his full attention to him, for a moment he could see why Claire helped him. He appeared just as an ordinary man, apparently without knowledge of all the terrors his complete self had performed. He was a man who was happy where he was, happy with the person he was with.

Matt desperately hoped that he would not only be able to forgive himself, but that one day Claire might be able to as well.

"Get on with it!" groaned the other one. "I thought you couldn't wait to get me out of your mind."

He focused on his target before him, "I am sorry."

In a quick motion, Matt pulled his hand out from behind his back. Gun in hand, he took aim and fire a few shots Sylar in the head. He watched as his head snapped back, eyes turned instantly blank, and the body collapsed to the floor, blood pooling on the carpet. Claire had screamed as soon as the first shot fired, rushing to inspect the back of his head.

"There!" he shouted at his specter. "There! Now, you really are trapped in here forever! You have no body to go back to, so you're stuck and you will die when I do – Why are you laughing!"

Still on the couch, Sylar threw back his head in hysterical laughter the instant he had yelled at him. "Parkman, I did not believe you had the manhood to try something like that. I am impressed!"

"Are you crazy?" Claire yelled, tears streaming her face as she placed the head of the bloody, lifeless body before her in her lap. "Why did you do that?"

"Quit laughing! I hit the kill spot –"

"I know you did!" she snapped back, not realizing the sentence wasn't towards her. She brushed the hair out of his mutilated face. "Why?"

"That doesn't work on me anymore," shared Sylar, his tone far less cocky than before. His gaze was distracted by the actions of the two people near the wall.

"Doesn't work, that's ridiculous –" Matt's claim was interrupted by a gasp from the girl in the room. Sure enough, Sylar's face was slowly reconstructing.

"Unless I moved where the kill spot was," he smugly replied.

As the reconstruction continued, Claire gently laid his head on the floor before standing. Clearing her throat she walked over to Matt, who was still shocked by the most recent development. What he certainly didn't expect was for Claire to snatch his gun away and point it at him. "Do what you did to come here to do, then stay out of my life for good," she ordered darkly. "Do you understand me?"

"Sexy."

Matt almost glared, but kept his gaze on the unstable blonde. "I'll need my gun back –"

"No," she interrupted firmly, cocking the firearm. "You leave with what you have on you. I've had a very stressful few weeks and I have had enough. Now finish your job and get out. Go back to your family and I never want to hear from you again."

"You want me to just leave you here with Sylar alone?"

"Yeah, I do," Claire insisted. "And do not even think about calling anyone about this. I will deal with it myself."

Matt considered fighting her demands, but one look told him there was no way he would win. Letting out a resigned sigh he kneeled next to the unconscious man, placing a hand over his forehead.

X~X~X~X~X

As soon as a conscious mind returned to Sylar, he snapped his eyes open to observe his surroundings. To put lightly, what he saw confused him. The room he was in was too nice to be any prison cell, the comfortable furniture and television were giveaways there. But at the same time this place wasn't swanky enough to be a part of the Stanton.

Eyes trailing down he noted a relatively fresh blood stain on the carpet, not much more than a few hours old. With the level of revenge that was mounting inside him, a blood stain that small wouldn't be his work. Sitting up suddenly, his head felt like it was full of cotton. Sylar groaned as he rubbed his head trying to remember how he got here.

But the last thing he could remember was Petrelli shoving a needle under his chin.

The sound of a door closing caused Sylar to stand so he could see who he was about to attack.

It was Claire Bennett.

Carrying a basket of laundry.

The sight was enough to make him pause.

At his abrupt movement Claire looked up and smiled faintly. "You're finally awake," she spoke kindly. Placing the basket on the table, she continued, "How are you feeling?" Sylar looked at his hands and touched his face just to double check he hadn't shifted to another form. "Sylar, is everything alright?"

Well that answered that question. Narrowing his brow he went on the defensive. "What's going on? Where am I? Why do you have me here?"

"My apartment," she replied very quietly. "Don't you know?"

"If I knew I wouldn't be asking," he hissed, stepping around the couch towards her. "Now, where is that uncle of yours?"

"Uncle? You mean Peter?" she breathed out, appearing more and more perplexed.

"Can you think of another uncle I would want to thank for injecting me full of drugs a few hours ago," he stated, coming closer. Her paralyzed shock was an uncommon trait for her, but he didn't care to take the time to analyze her behavior. Electricity crackled from his fingertips as he raised them in front of her face. "Don't make me ask again."

Claire snapped and began to laugh in his face. The drastic change in attitude surprised him enough to shut off his power. Sylar stepped back from the girl as her laughter became louder. "You've got to be kidding me!" she cried out, wiping tears from her eyes. "None of it. You remember none of it!" She pushed him as she walked past attempting to get control of her crazy laughing.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know out of every scenario I imagined, never once did I think this would happen. I thought conflict of memories, one would be dominate over the other, maybe it wouldn't work at all; but never this!" She turned away to presumably gain control of herself and Sylar allowed her the time, only to try and piece together clues for himself. Glancing at the laundry basket he noted it was full of both women and men's clothing. Before he could process this, she continued, "It's November now."

He tilted his head sharply, stunned by the news. "You're lying."

"You know I'm not," she spat out, brushing her hair back to become calm once more.

"How could I have lost five months?" he demanded, stepping up to her as anger swelled inside him. "For that matter, why am I in your apartment? When did you even get one?"

"College," she cooperated somewhat muted in energy. "We're in Arlington, Virginia right now. I have no idea why or how you stumbled here, but I found you one day a couple of weeks ago. Some people were looking for you, so against my better judgment I let you stay for a little bit."

A cocky eyebrow raised as Sylar grinned broadly, "Where exactly have I been staying while at your place?"

"Don't," she ordered firmly, crossing arms over her front. "You do not get to say that to me."

In the interest of wanting more information, he let that one slide. "And the five months before that?"

"I don't know everything," answered Claire vaguely. An angry sour expression shadowed her face, "Though I know that you were brainwashed to take Nathan's place after you murdered him."

A beat passed to allow the true point of her words settle in.

"Oops," he drolled out, with no remorse.

The speed at which Claire moved impressed him as she grabbed the crystal bowl which sat on the table and slammed it against his face. Sylar's head snapped back as shattered crystal shards embedded into his skin. "What are you going to do about it! Go ahead! Try something, I want you too!"

The initial blow hurt more than the tiny little fragments slowly dropping out. A flash of rage ran through him and he flared his fingers, flinging her up into a wall. The desire to physically mutilate and destroy was overwhelming.

But the blonde up against the wall wasn't scared, wasn't in pain, wasn't even angry. She was just sad. She wanted him to try and hurt her. With no prospect of a challenge or resistance Sylar let her down. Her goading ceased as her feet gently touched the ground. Taking the quiet as an opportunity to gather his thoughts, he asked, "Is that bloodstain mine?"

She nodded without a word.

"What made you do it?"

"I didn't do that to you," she sighed out, exasperated. "And once you leave I will have to clean up after you. _Again_."

"Again? What does that even mean?"

"Sylar," she began, cutting his name off a bit. "After everything I've done for you, quite frankly you owe me –"

"Oh, so that's why you took me in," he yelled, becoming angry at the notion of being used. "So that I would owe you a giant favor in the future."

"Of course not," muttered Claire, as though the thought had never occurred to her.

He gave her a warning glare, "Nobody ever means that. You were looking for some sort of payoff, what is it?"

"I wasn't," she insisted with complete calm. "You know that I'm telling the truth too, so why are we arguing about this?" The realization that she hadn't once lied to him since he woke up suddenly struck him silent. "You've hurt my family a lot…"

"That blame flows both ways," he started, but Claire cut him off.

"Not the point right now," she interrupted. "What I want from you is that you leave this apartment right now and don't come back. Then just leave my family and me alone while we grieve. That's not too much to ask for."

Sylar stepped slowly towards her and the control she had exhibited since she had touched to the floor flinched a bit. He leaned in just slightly, "I still don't have the full story."

"And I'm not in a sharing mood right now." She pointed to the door, steely faced. "Get out."

He could've made her share. Perhaps not do any lasting physical harm to her, but friends and other family he could torture. Make her watch or participate as he rolled out the punishment. But something in her tone indicated she wanted to share everything, and that she would. Just not right at that moment. He could get what he wanted from her later. After all, they both had forever.

Trusting that another crystal bowl wasn't going to come crashing in on his head, Sylar turned his back to Claire and exited the apartment. As soon as the door clicked closed, he heard the muffled sounds of her sobbing before he walked down the hall contemplating his next move.


	11. Chapter 10

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: With the exception of my dear Sweetie; none of them are mine. *darn!*

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

* * *

Chapter 10

_The last girl and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could  
First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything  
The weight of water, the way you told me to look past everything I had ever learned  
The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love_

_~ Make This Go On Forever; Snow Patrol_

Four days later and it still hurt.

Whenever she closed her eyes all she could see was him. Him in her bed, him comforting her, his face when he didn't remember their time together, him leaving.

As childish as it was she refused to say _his_ name.

To make matters even more painful, three days ago her father had called informing her of Nathan's death and pending funeral. Claire had wanted to yell at him, tell him she already knew, outright blame him for the situation; but she was still just too exhausted to find out what the cover story of his death was. She knew the truth, and that was good enough.

Claire gargled mouth rinse and spit it out into the sink. She didn't even bother to try and make herself look better before she went back to the living room where Sweetie waited. Flopping down on the sofa she grimaced at the nasty feel vomit left in her mouth. Sweetie sighed, "I know you're invincible or whatever, but you sure you feel alright? That's the second time today you've tossed your cookies."

"It's just stress," she reasoned, slipping her hands into the sweatshirt she wore. "Nathan's funeral is finally tomorrow and final's are basically here…amongst other reasons…" she lamely dropped off, trying desperately not to become upset again.

"Whatever you say," muttered Sweetie, not putting up with her excuses. "But I'm pretty sure this has more something to do with a certain someone who no longer is living under this roof."

"Sweetie –" Claire tried to butt in, as a fresh knot tightened in her stomach.

"I know, I know, I see him poking around here I should call your father in an instant. And I respect your right to not telling me all the details with this one, but you need to keep that in mind that I don't have all the facts as I give you advice," she continued honestly. "Are you sure there isn't any way you two could meet up? Talk about what happened?"

"No," she answered firmly, terrified by the thought. "I told you he's different, his mind was sp –"

"Mind was split, two different consciousnesses floating around, blah blah blah, that's all well and good," she interrupted. "Have you thought about how he might have been split? Maybe your telepath friend had all the evil bad bits, and the gentleman who was here had all the good positive parts."

Claire swallowed down the lump that jumped up in her throat. No, she hadn't considered that, but things were never be that simple. "Even if that were true, he's all back together now. He's back to being that crazy killer he was before."

"Might be true," agreed Sweetie, "however, it would seem to me that that good side has something more to fight for."

She leaned in to tap Claire chin, bringing a grin on both of their faces. A flicker of hope rose in Claire's chest, but she quickly snuffed it out. "Please stop trying to make him the good guy, he's really not. It would just make everything easier if I could go back to hating him."

"I don't think it's going to be so easy," warned the older woman, taking a drink of her iced tea. Claire tilted her head, not at all trying to hide her annoyance. "Do you love him?"

She shrugged, purposefully avoiding eye contact. "What does it matter now?"

"Did you ever tell him you loved him?"

A phantom knife simultaneously stabbed her in the back and gut, leaving her breathless for the moment. Flashing back to the rooftop, the last time she was really alone with him. All the things he got to say; and all the things he wouldn't let her. Somehow, him not letting her answer his unspoken question was the most painful thing he had ever done to her.

"Did he ever tell you?"

"Sweetie, believe it or not, I am really not in the mood to discuss this," Claire snapped, grabbing both full glasses as she stood, heading to the kitchen. "I told you right after he left, I need to pretend none of this happened. And you do too."

"I don't think it'll be that easy," she repeated as she too stood slowly.

Claire slammed the glasses down on the counter, "Why do you keep saying that?"

"Exactly how much sex did you have with that boy?"

"Feel free to leave at any time –"

"I'm only asking if you used any protection?"

The blonde let out an exacerbated sigh, "Not that it's really any of your business; but ever since I got my GED's, Mom and I decided I should get the shot once a month."

"Think that worked for you?"

"Why wouldn't it?"

"Your ability," she answered simply and Claire felt a rush of cold paralyze her body. "The way you described how your power works, seems to me vaccines like that might just get filtered out of your body." The younger girl shook her head, she had to be mistaken. "Adding up your mood swings, the odd cravings I've been hearing about, the amount you've been sick. It's all very similar to when my daughter was…"

Sweetie trailed off, nothing but sympathy in her eyes. "When your daughter was what?"

"I think you got a baby in you, Honey Child."

Claire's head reeled back as though it had been punched. The evidence the older woman lined up was true, then Angela's unexpected visit popped into her head. Feeling the blood drain from her face, she rushed to the bathroom. Digging to the back of the cabinet underneath the sink she uncovered the purple and white box her grandmother had left for her.

She ripped apart the box to pull out a pregnancy test stick to use.

In two minutes time the stick showed a red plus sign.

"Shit!"

X~X~X~X~X

Emma stood at the doorway of her filing office, watching the hustle and bustle of the hospital go on around her. It was something she hadn't started doing until recently, but she now enjoyed observing what other people were doing. On the far side of the registration desk she saw Peter Petrelli viewing some paperwork. She watched him intently stare at the papers, but she could tell his mind was a million miles away. That was hardly surprising as his brother's funeral was the next day. She had been keeping her eye on him the past couple of days, ever since the news of his death. She had watched dozens of people come up to him insisting he go home, but he wouldn't. Emma understood the need to keep busy after a tragedy, to put off the grieving until after the burial.

Though the triple shift Peter was on probably wasn't the best idea, the point was she understood.

Across the way he raised his eyes, meeting hers and giving a little wave. She returned it adding a smile with hers. The desired effect showed as he too smiled in return. Setting down the pen he signed, albeit clumsily, that he needed to talk with her before their shifts were over.

Emma was about to sign back, but something to Peter's right distracted him. A petite blonde girl popped out of nowhere, throwing herself into his arms for a hug. A hug which Peter returned and Emma couldn't help the pang of jealousy that struck her. Both leaned back to talk about something, she couldn't make out their lips to know for sure what about. After a few moments of tense conversation Peter kissed the girls forehead, another jealous stab resulted from Emma. He glanced back and forth, to be sure he wasn't needed she assumed, before he led the girl into an empty break room.

Nodding to herself, Emma stepped back into her office. Taking a seat at the computer, she slipped the ear buds back into her ears before resuming her work, trying to will the tears not to fall.

X~X~X~X~X

Claire immediately began pacing around the small room as Peter locked the door. He tried to get her to sit down, but she wasn't going to relax until she had her say. She licked her lips nervously, working up to the reason she had come. "You did tell the hospital what you're doing tomorrow right?"

He sighed, "Claire –"

"It's just weird that you're here," she continued, still fidgeting around. "Seems like they might've given you the week off or something –"

"I doubt you came to New York a day early to discuss my overworking," he stated, leaning against the table with crossed arms. "What's wrong Claire?"

She swallowed thickly. "I need your help with something, I just need you to please not be mad at me…"

"Are you in trouble? Is someone trying to hurt you?" he asked worried.

"No, not quite." Peter reached out to grab her arm so she would stop moving. She breathed out nervously, "Long story short, I met a guy about a little over a month about who could do what I do."

"That's incredible!" he exclaimed. "Where was he from?"

She shrugged ambiguously, "He didn't have any idea of his life before. So I let him stay with me."

"You sure that was a good idea?"

"No, it wasn't," she admitted, "even then I knew it was a bad idea, but he needed help."

Her uncle sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. "Where is he now?"

"Gone," Claire replied quickly. "A couple days ago his memory returned, but he didn't remember any of our time together, so I just let him go. I don't know where he was going and I didn't try to stop him."

"Do you need my help finding him?"

She shook her head, "I'm more in need of medical help from you."

Peter paused for a beat. "Medical help. You?"

"I'm pregnant," whispered Claire, watching his response. Shock was a kind word for Peter's facial expression and it remained frozen as such. "I just need to be sure of what's going on inside me and I want to avoid leaving a paper trail, just in case he comes back."

"Wait, in case he comes back? Claire, who is this guy? If you're scared of him why did you sleep with him the first place?"

"Look," she ordered. "Out of all the crap that our families have done, you and I are the only ones who haven't lied or cheated each other out of something. I don't want to lie to you, Peter. You're kind of the only friend I have left. And I promise I will tell you who the dad is some day, just not right now. It's too soon to think about."

Peter appeared to accept this, as he mulled over her request. "When you say medical help, are we talking a check up or something else?"

Her stomach dropped and she looked down ashamed. "I hadn't gotten that far in my decision," she admitted. Her uncle stood with a long sigh, walking to the door. He gazed out the tiny glass window while leaning on the jam, saying nothing for several minutes. Claire felt herself beginning to cry again, "You're disappointed in me, aren't you?"

"What? No!" He whirled around, surprise all over his face. "I'm trying to think of the best way to do this with as few people as possible knowing about it." Giving her a tight hug he added, "I could never be disappointed in you."

"I think you'd be surprised," she muttered, pulling away and wiping the tears with a small laugh. "I am so sick of all the hormonal crying!"

"I'm sure," agreed Peter gave his own laugh. Looking back out the small window he continued, "I have to go check a few rooms for equipment and sign out. Why don't you go across the lobby to wait with Emma."

She shook her head in confusion. "Who's Emma?"

"She was in med school awhile back, her dream was to focus on neonatal care. Which is perfect for you." He ushered her towards the door. "Go, I'll be there as soon as I can."

X~X~X~X~X

Emma continued to click away at the computer, not really doing any productive work, when the blonde from earlier stood at the entrance to her office. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the girl saying something, but decided to ignore her in the hopes she would leave. Still clicking on random files, the girl walked in farther and tried to repeat what she said before. Not looking away from the screen Emma only pointed at the sign on her desk, "All Requests Must Be Made in Writing".

A moment passed where Emma thought she would actually leave, but the girl reached out to tap her arm. Finally turning her attention towards her the girl mimed the removal of her ear buds. Begrudgingly she followed the request and stared at her as she spoke silent words. "Hi, my name is Claire, Peter said you might be able to help me."

"Could you repeat that?" asked Emma, just being precocious though she understood everything. "I'm deaf."

The girl, Claire's, eyes did that widened shock she so hated to see, so this girl was one of those types. "Peter didn't mention anything about you being deaf."

"He sometimes forgets to mention important things like that," she jabbed harsh enough to make Claire flinch.

"Have I offended you somehow in the 45 seconds I've been in this office?"

"No," Emma shook her head, acknowledging her own rude behavior. "I'm sorry. So how do you know Peter?"

The other blonde grinned softly, apparently getting the underlying message. "He's my uncle. Nathan was my birth father."

Oh. That made sense. Emma replayed the events she had observed earlier and they all added up to a relationship between family members. She felt a little bit of guilt as she explained, "Peter has never said anything about you."

"Well, I've kind of been the black sheep of the family, which I'm totally fine with, but Peter's the only medical guy I know…"

"Are you sick?" inquired Emma, looking over her apparently healthy form.

"No, that can't happen," she explained vaguely, her lips over exaggerating the words indicating she was no longer speaking aloud. "But I am pregnant. Peter thought you might be able to help? He said that you were studying for a neonatal practice?"

"He told you that?" she asked absolutely stunned he had brought that up.

Claire's reply was interrupted by Peter rushing back into the room. "I found us some place two floors up, Room 327. Claire, go get ready. We'll be right there." The younger girl exited and he turned to address Emma, who was beginning to feel anxious. "Did she tell you what's going on?"

"She needs a doctor, not me," she gave as an excuse.

"She needs this to stay quiet," he explained. "I can't do it alone. And I was hoping you'd help me since you have some of the training."

"Why are you having me help her?" Emma asked, feeling the guilt from Christopher's death beginning to swell up in her.

Peter reached out to touch her shoulder and a relaxed sensation flowed through her. "Because I trust you." Blatant reasoning like that, she couldn't argue and an odd sort of confidence built. "I have another favor to ask, one I was wondering before Claire came in." She tilted her head to indicate her interest. "I was hoping you would come with me to the funeral. I need someone there I really can count on."

She had to mentally double check she understood the large request. "Claire's going, isn't she?"

"But she's not you."

Emma sighed lightly, nodding with a flattered smile. Anything he asked of her, she would do.

X~X~X~X~X

In the small room off towards the back of the hospital, Claire let out a small squeak as the cold gel came in contact with her belly. Emma had conducted a brief physical declaring everything on the outside looked healthy, not a surprise to the other two in the room. "I want to know how far along. Two weeks, a month, I don't know," Claire repeated for the umpteenth time, suddenly nervous as the time for answers approached.

"We know," Peter reassured again, having just double checked that no one was in the hall to disturb them. "I know you're nervous, but you need to relax."

Claire nodded, nervous bundles twisting in her gut as she grabbed onto both Peter's hand and Emma's free arm. She closed her eyes waiting for quite awhile, before the sound of a heartbeat filtered through the room. Upon hearing the sound she wished deep down that Emma would be able to tell everything she could about the baby's health.

Just as the thought completed, a sharp gasp came from Emma and Claire's eyes flipped open wanting to know what the problem was. But she wasn't looking at the screen, she was looking in the air. "What's wrong?"

"I can see the heartbeat," she whispered in awe, just staring up in the air.

Still staring at the blonde, Claire turned slightly to Peter. "What is she looking at?"

He reached out to touch Emma's hand before a silly grin plastered on his face. "Would you look at that?"

"Look at what?"

"Emma has the ability to see colors from sound," explained Peter, attention still completely in the air. "This is just amazing. They're pulsing, changing colour with every beat."

"The colors look strong," stated Emma, also not looking anywhere but up. A hand reached up and trailed through the air. "Bold, rich; I've never seen anything like it." She returned her attention to Claire. "I think that means the baby is very healthy too, just like its mom."

A nervous smile settled on her lips and Peter squeezed her hand, letting her know whatever she decided was not going to be judged by him. She greatly appreciated it that moment. "What about everything else?" she pushed forward. "I still don't see a picture on the screen."

Truth be told, whenever people showed sonogram pictures the baby in them always looked like gray blobs to her, even pretty far into the pregnancy.

"If the pregnancy really is only a month in, there may not be much to see," said Emma, moving the sensor over her stomach. "A fetus doesn't look like a person until about the second month."

A little more time passed as Emma trailed the device around, when Peter suddenly pointed, "There!"

With a little readjusting, what could only be described as a gray circle like blob filled the screen. And it was the most beautiful thing Claire had ever seen in her life. "Is that the head?" she asked in wonder.

"Yeah," replied Emma, taking a picture. "From the looks of things, I'd say this baby is at about 9 weeks."

Claire sat straight up as terror coursed through her veins. "_What_?"

The movement lost both the heartbeat and the picture, but the other woman observed the saved photograph. "About 9 weeks, maybe even pushing towards 10 by the looks of things."

The world became dizzy as Claire struggled to breathe properly. "That's not possible. You've got to be wrong, or something…"

Peter studied the image as well and nodded. "Emma's right, this baby is over two months gestation."

"Oh my God! This is impossible!" she cried out, burying her head in her hands as an idea struck her. "It has to be our ability."

"Maybe it's not who you think it is," he offered with a wince.

A sharp glare was flung in his direction. "No. I only just slept with a guy three, maybe four weeks ago. About two months ago I was potentially going to be dating another girl, so, definitely no guys."

Peter had nothing else to add to that as Emma clicked the print button on the ultrasound machine and began to clean up. "If things are moving as fast as you say they are, you should have a check up every week," she reasoned, completely stepping over her last comment. "That way we might have a chance of knowing the due date."

An eerily quiet settled over the room and Claire focused on a spot on the floor in order to control her breathing. The level of panic that was continually turned over inside her was nauseating. Peter squatted to meet her eyes, his tone of voice full of regret. "I hate to tell you now, but if your body really is speeding things up, you need to make your decision sooner rather than later."

"If my body is speeding up the pregnancy, do you really think it's going to let me terminate it?" snapped Claire, feeling more and more lost. Peter backed off, looking more than a little relieved. "I'm sorry," she apologized, addressing both of them. "Please, don't tell anyone. I'll tell people later, just not now."

"Of course not," replied Peter, giving a hug. "Everything's going to be alright, I promise."

Emma nodded as she gently squeezed her hand. She kissed her cheek and left the picture in her hand. "Congratulations."

She turned the small paper around in her hand, observing the grayish figure on it. Her other hand settled on her stomach as she finally made the connection, letting out a little giggle. "That's our baby."


	12. Chapter 11

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Nope, not at all mine.

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

A/N: Yes, I know, it has been forever; Claire probably would have given birth by now. On top of the studying for two degrees at two separate universities and working that I had been doing, I've been helping a friend move out the belongings from her dying mother's house and prepping to move myself. So I've pretty much had no free time the past few months. I have not given up on this fic, nor will I give up on this fic. Just please be patient with me, I WILL complete it.

* * *

Chapter 11

_The moon shines on the autumn sky, growin´ cold the leaves all die  
I´m more alone than I´ve ever been, help me out of the shape I´m in  
After the fires before the flood  
My sweet baby I need fresh blood_

_~ Fresh Blood; Eels_

Nathan's funeral was turning out to be more terrifying and awkward than Claire initially believed. Peter had insisted she stay close to him, for both their sakes. So she sat in the front row between Peter and a brother of hers she had never met, she wasn't even sure of his name. The confused side glances she kept receiving from the two boys and Heidi was nearly enough to make her scream out loud, let alone the gossipy side conversations from everyone else in attendance. The only one who could be equally uncomfortable in that moment had to be Emma, who was currently between Peter and Angela.

The priest spoke hopeful and kind words, but Claire didn't hear a bit of it. Before long he announced that the surviving members of his family were to come up. Planning on staying where she was, she was stunned when Peter pulled her to her feet. Heidi gestured for the boys to walk up, had anyone even told them she existed? Following Angela and Peter's leads, Claire walked to the front and removed a rose from a vase, as did her brothers behind her.

The priest continued to speak and Claire used the opportunity to get a look at other people in attendance. From what she could tell all were politicians, spouses of politicians, or assistants to politicians. Not one of them had an ability. Where were Hiro? Mohinder? Tracy? Had none of them heard the news? Or were they still bitter over last spring?

An elderly man standing at the back of the chairs caught her eye. He had to be in his sixties at the minimum, used a cane, and a suit that he had clearly worn for years. Only as she observed these facts, her stomach lurched. She knew them to be wrong. He was much younger than his sixties, younger than even his forties. The cane he had wasn't actively being used; it was more like a prop. The man who wore a suit with that level of wear and tear should appear absolutely comfortable in it, but he wasn't. Another stomach turn and she was almost certain he was a shape shifter.

A rather specific shape shifter.

Claire focused on maintaining absolute calm, figuring that any anxiousness or fidgeting would be chalked up to restrained grief, as the priest introduced the family members present; a slight murmur throughout the crowd at her introduction. Instructed to place the rose on top of the coffin, each did so before returning to their seats. The not so old man who caught Claire's eye had moved to the other side of the chairs, closer to her.

Thankfully, upon sitting down, the funeral completed when priest read aloud one more scripture and a blessing. Peter squeezed her hand and she nodded to let him know she was alright. Bucking up her courage she turned to address her siblings for the first time, but found Heidi had rushed them to the car already. Watching her usher her children into the back seat, Claire wasn't sure whether to be offended or to laugh.

Peter answered the question with a quiet chuckle. "We told her you were going to be here," he said, as they observed the car driving off as soon as the door closed. "She…wasn't too happy with the news."

Not being able to help it she gave a little laugh of her own. "Guess I'm not missing out on too much, huh?" Her uncle gave a one armed hug before someone from the next row back got a hold of his attention. Peering a few rows back the old man stood waiting and watching. While her eye remained cast in his direction, she pulled Emma near her. Barely using her voice Claire told her, "Do you see that man over there?" Emma looked discretely and nodded. "Do not let Peter be alone with him."

"Why?"

"I'll tell you later, any day but today. But, can you just stay with Peter, no matter what?"

"Of course," she nodded again, walking to where visitors had maneuvered Peter. She came up to his side, wrapping her arm around his. Without breaking his conversation he clasped a hand over Emma's arm, a simple sign that he was endlessly thankful to have her nearby.

Happy at the little progress, Claire had just enough time to heave a sigh of relief when a person from behind tapped her shoulder. Turning she came face to face with an upper middle aged man in a suit with a woman by his side, presumably his wife. "We just wanted to express our condolences," began the man with a quick and firm handshake. "Just a terrible occurrence."

"Um, yeah," she struggled out, not at all prepared for this.

"I was just telling Phillip here that I had no idea Nathan had any daughters," continued the wife with just a hint of nosiness in her voice.

Not looking forward to this all day, Claire gave a very sweet smile. "You say that like it's a problem."

Fear filtered into the woman's eyes and Phillip pursed his lips. "No, no, no! Not at all!"

"Well, then, thank you for your condolences," she replied maintaining her sweet smile. "Now if you don't mind, I have to go talk to someone who will mind their own business." Side stepping their shocked forms, and enjoying every bit of it, she began to head towards the end of the aisle. Unfortunately, she made it only a few chairs down before pausing for yet another well wisher. This one proved more polite, yet still brief.

Another couple of steps and then another attendee approached, followed by another. All of who called her Petrelli, and all of who she corrected. How many people were here?

Finally Claire reached the end of the aisle where she scanned the crowd looking for her shifter. He was nowhere to be seen. While she was distracted looking for the not-so-old man, Noah approached. "How are you doing?"

Gulping down the initial revulsion from the question, Claire forced herself to put up the smallest smile. "I just want this day to be over."

Concern still covering his features, he continued, "You've seemed down the past few days, even before the news of his death. I know I haven't seen you in awhile, but is everything alright?"

The pressure of everything she had to deal with made her heart skip a beat, but she maintained a relatively strong front. "Yeah, I just… I guess you could say I went through a really bad break up the day before you called and I'm still kind of dealing…"

"Do you need any help–?"

"No," Claire replied quickly, putting up the same polite small smile she had been using all day. "It's just me being bluesy, nothing serious."

He gave an anxious smile back, obviously trying very hard to keep his comments to himself. "So, how was it standing with the Petrelli's today?"

"I don't know who's idea that was, but that was really the icing on the cake today," she explained making it absolutely clear that she was not pleased with what had happened. Noah's face relaxed just a touch. "I don't even want to know what's going to happen at the wake."

"Speaking of which, I'm not going to be able to make it tonight," informed Noah, an odd sense of relief flooded through her. One less person she had to pretend to be fine with.

"A 'company related emergency'?" she asked allowing a little bit of sarcasm to filter through.

Her father grinned lightly. "I suppose you could say that, have a lead I need to check on as soon as I can." He comfortingly put both hands on her shoulder. "Are you going to be alright without me?"

"Yeah, go. It's important," she encouraged, not really wanting him to be there anyway. "Give me a call when you get back." Noah gave her a kiss on her forehead then headed to a black car parked nearby. Without even asking Claire knew who his lead related to.

"Excuse me, are you Claire Petrelli then?" inquired a shaky voice from behind her.

"It's Bennet, actually," she answered for the umpteenth time while turning around only to find herself face to face with the figure of the old man she had been searching for. A flicker of worry lit up inside her.

A wrinkled hand reached out to shake hers. "Judge Cavanaugh," he introduced. "And might I just say that it is a surprise to find that Nathan had a daughter."

"Oh, I'm sure you knew," replied the blonde, oozing with fake pleasantness. She released his hand to cross her arms over her stomach, thankful for the large black over coat. Sylar couldn't find out about the baby, let alone at her father's funeral. "How did you know Nathan?"

"Politics caused us to cross paths often, sometimes in an advisory capacity, other times against his decisions," he rattled off in an almost over practiced way. "I met him just after he started in the business –"

"Wow, you're a crappy liar," she snapped, not able to contain herself any longer.

A definite surprised expression flashed across his face, Claire was glad she caught him off guard. "I beg your pardon –"

"Cut the crap, Sylar, I can see right through you." He opened his mouth to protest once more and she raised a hand. "Don't even try to treat me like a child by pretending otherwise. You know I hate that."

His eyes glinted darkly, "You are too clever for your own good."

The voice that belonged to Sylar filtered out through the old man's mouth, a sound that Claire didn't realize just how much she missed. She struggled to maintain a no nonsense face to not to show how it affected her. "You said you would stay away while we mourned."

"No, you said I would stay away. I never promised anything."

"I guess that's my fault for assuming you'd show any piece of human compassion given this is a funeral and all."

"After what your family has done to me, are you surprised?" he rhetorically asked. No one was near enough to hear the venom in their conversation, so to anyone on the outside it looked as though they were holding a cordial talk. Sylar leaned in a little and touched her arm. "Do you see how close we are to where your dear uncle is? Or your grandmother?"

She spared a glance to the side where they stood by the cars, not paying any attention to her. Working to slip her arm out of his grip, she frowned, "It's too public, you wouldn't dare."

Her resistance only made him grip harder. "You're forgetting I don't look like me. Who would I be exposing? A ninety year old politician who everyone thinks should leave office anyway?"

"Let me go," she whispered, discretely twisting some more so people wouldn't notice them.

"I could easily end their lives before they knew it. Remove a limb or two. Force them to expose what they are. I don't know which to do first. All I know is I want there to be blood and humiliation."

This was good, Claire thought. He needed to keep saying terrible things to make it easier to hate him. And judging by the fire rising in her chest, it was getting easier. Despite knowing this she couldn't help her free hand reaching back and slapping him as hard as she could. Sylar released her arm, holding his cheek while laughing.

"What's going on here?" asked Peter behind her. Claire jumped considerably and turned around to face him, Emma at his side looking at her with apologetic eyes.

"It's nothing," she replied quickly. "Why don't we just go. The crowd's clearing out anyways –"

"I didn't catch your name," interrupted Peter, keeping full attention to the man she just struck and ignoring the fact it had just happened. It was obvious he suspected something, but was keeping it to himself.

"This man says he's a Judge Cavanaugh, giving condolences" she replied politely, putting full attention to Peter. "We just had a misunderstanding, but everything should be clear now. Why don't we leave, the crowd's clearing out anyways."

"Yeah," he replied, holding a hand out. Sylar shook it firmly, both men nodding a greeting. Claire could practically feel the giddiness rolling off of her ex, leaving her on edge. Once they released, Peter narrowed his eyes. "So how did you know my brother?"

"Met him a few times through work," he answered with the old man's voice, a small grin forming.

"I'm sure you did."

Emma tugged on Peter's arm. "It's getting late, let's get to a car for the wake." She looked at the old man she had been warned about also oozing politeness. "It was nice to meet you."

She pulled him away, but Peter remained focused on Claire. Sylar's eyes glittered. "The wake?" he inquired once they were out of hearing range.

"You are _not_ invited," she hissed infuriated, swiftly turning her back and following her family to the car.

X~X~X~X~X

Claire arrived at Angela's apartment with Emma and Peter. Since they arrived slightly late, several people were already milling around. She removed her coat, but held it in front of her still flat stomach, subconsciously frightened someone would point and yell, "Pregnant belly!"

Giving plastered on smiles to those who approached, accepting their condolences and ignoring their nosy questions, became a blur after a short time. At some point her companions separated from her by accident, so she searched the relatively small space for them. Instead she stumbled quite literally into the Haitian. "Rene?"

"I am deeply sorry for your loss, Claire," he rumbled out, absolutely meaning every word.

"Thank you," she replied meaning the phrase genuinely. "And thank you for your part in helping Peter. From what I hear we probably still wouldn't know if it wasn't for you."

"Your father had been missing far too long and Mrs. Petrelli's grief was getting in the way of her rational thought," he elaborated. Claire nodded, biting back a comment about Angela's rational thought process in general. "Something had to be done."

She thanked him again, before continuing to circle the room. Meeting phony face followed by yet another one rippled with false concern, she inevitably ran into Angela. Being alone with her was something she had been working to avoid all day. For the sake of what today represented, Claire was determined to be at the very least polite to her. "I'm so glad you came, dear."

"Peter asked that I be here," she explained, making it known right away she wouldn't be here otherwise. "Was that stunt with me being up there with the roses his idea or yours?"

"A combination I suppose," she stated plainly. "Did it bother you to stand up with us?"

"I just hope there isn't any big publicity around this," admitted Claire. "Believe it or not, I feel I'm more than a little camera shy."

"I wouldn't worry. There's more story in the tragic accidental death of a senator than his unknown daughter suddenly appearing at his funeral," she reasoned away with a wave. As Angela took a drink Claire looked around for a polite way out this conversation, but none seemed to appear. Giving a slight lip smack, she went forward, "I see you've told Peter about your little condition."

Claire blanched and felt like the world fell away for a moment. "Peter told you?" she hissed moving closer.

"Don't be ridiculous, of course he didn't," she soothed. "I just know. I similarly know you haven't told him who the father is. I also recall warning you about that little fact."

"You know what," she started, not appreciating the underlying know-it-all tone, "I do not need a moral lecture from you of all people. Especially not today."

"I'm not here to lecture you, Claire," she explained allowing her strong façade to fall away, revealing all the grief and regret that had built up over time. As much as Claire hated to admit it, it affected her. "And I'm not going to tell. Anyone. Consider it an apology for all that I've kept from you over the years."

"It's a start," she accepted with a nod.

"When we have a moment in private there is something I wish to speak with you about, regarding your recent news," requested Angela vaguely.

"Sure," she replied in an equally vague tone. She wasn't exactly certain she wanted anything more to do with this family after this recent transgression. Doing another sweep of the room she asked, "Have you seen Peter lately? Or Emma even?"

"Judge Cavanaugh requested to speak privately with Peter. So they headed up to the roof, I believe Emma followed them – Where are you going?"

Claire's stomach dropped with the word 'judge' and she dashed to the door as fast as she could manage through the crowd. She flipped her coat on as she bolted up the stairs, not exactly sure what she was planning to do once she reached the top. Upon reaching the top floor door she could hear the clear sounds of fighting and arguing voices from the other side. Flinging the door open, she had to duck just as a lightning bolt flew towards her head.

Recovering she looked to see Sylar and Peter posed ready for more fighting standing across from each other; the latter with quite a few cuts and burns all over him, but both huffing and puffing from their efforts. "What is going on here?" she demanded, causing the battle to continue its momentary break.

"Get out of here, Claire!" shouted a winded Peter, barely taking a glance in her direction. "Take Emma and go!"

Looking to her side she found Emma lay in a crumpled heap nearby. Rushing to assist her, the sounds of abilities resumed from behind. Emma was breathing; she had just been knocked unconscious for the time being from what she could tell. Probably from being thrown backwards into the wall. A light groan and shift indicated to Claire that she would be up soon. She considered dragging her, but decided to wait a few seconds to see if she would regain consciousness.

Crouched down beside Emma, Claire watched the fight continue in a big blur. Throughout every telekinetic push, electric bolt thrown, and sonic scream emitted she remained torn. She did not want her uncle to die, but she also did not want anything to happen to the other man despite everything he had done. Deep down and with everything she had, all Claire wanted was for the fighting to stop, for everyone on that roof to be protected.

The next electric bolt that Sylar threw was aimed perfectly at Peter, but it never reached him. Similarly, Peter attempted to push Sylar back with his mind, but he never even flinched. Both men looked at their hands in confusion before trying once more, but with the same result. Sylar turned his hand to a decorative stone pillar near Peter, using a slicing motion to make it collapse. The stone split from his telekinesis. Performing the same motion towards Peter, nothing happened.

"What is going on?" he demanded, trying out a few more powers on inanimate objects with success, but no result when turned towards any person on the rooftop.

She could tell he was reaching a dangerous level of impatience. Acting purely on instinct Claire rushed towards Sylar. Running past him, she grabbed a hold of his jacket collar and pulled him over the edge on the building with her. As they began to fall she vaguely heard Peter's protest at his too late attempt to stop her.

A lot happened in the course of the rather short thirteen story fall. Claire kept a firm grasp on his collar as she fell underneath Sylar. The entire way down no words were spoken, no wild struggles were tried as they came closer to the ground. At some point between floors seven and eight, she suddenly remembered the unborn baby she carried and shut her eyes tightly sincerely hoping her theory about her ability and its safety would be proven.

Then approximately between floors six and seven, she felt her body rotating. Waiting a brief moment until the rotation stopped, at about floor three she peeked an eye open to see that Sylar had switched places with her. He was going to take the brunt of the impact. Claire barely had just enough time to be stunned before they hit pavement.

The impact jolted harshly through her body, but nothing felt broken, sprained, or twisted out of place. Sylar on the other hand had several bones cracked, including his skull. The cranial fracture was enough to temporarily kill him, let alone the other trauma. The shock of the moment didn't last long for Claire, but she remained lying on top of him. As bizarre as it was, she allowed herself to remember their time together and feel at peace while doing so. She propped up her chin to inspect his face up close as she brought a hand up to stroke his cheek. When her thumb came into contact with his skin, a grin flittered to her lips as she realized he needed a shave.

Wanting nothing more than to just remain where she was, once his heart began beating she knew he would be moving in seconds. Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, Claire scooted back to sit on the sidewalk next to him. Shortly after color returned to his cheeks he emitted a sharp gasp and grabbed her arm, causing her to jump lightly. "What did you do that for?" he growled, grimacing as muscle tissues reconnected throughout his form.

"Oh, I don't know," she sighed sarcastically. "Call me crazy for wanting to save my uncle's life."

"I would call you crazy anyway." Claire forced the threatening smirk down, reminding herself this was not mentally the same man who lived with her for weeks. The same man who was the father of her baby. The smirk wiped away immediately. So much for easily hating him. As his strength returned the grip on her arm became tighter. "Don't you understand the point of leaving a message?"

Moving past the blatant threat she gestured with her head. "You need to leave."

"I haven't finished yet."

The tone at which he spoke stirred the same emotions as it had in the graveyard, only now more so intense as his physical appearance matched her memory. "Rene's upstairs and I'd bet anything Peter's going to stop by to get his power before coming down to kick your ass. And this time I'm going to let him."

"What makes you think you can stop me?" he asked, the darkness in his voice showing the control he believed he had. Claire remained frozen as he moved closer to her, his hands sliding up to grasp her neck and the back of her skull. "Besides, I could just make a message out of you instead. Snap your neck, a small sign that I'm not finished with your family yet."

She felt no fear or worry as she looked deftly into Sylar's eyes. "You won't do it."

"What makes you certain?" he asked, gripping tighter as though he had to live up to a dare.

"Because you hit the ground first." The confusion that flittered over his face caused her to grin ever so lightly. "I was supposed to land first. You switched places with me."

In shock of the statement his hands loosened, one falling away and the other to her shoulder. She resisted the urge to lean her head down to nuzzle it. "No, that's not what happened –"

"We both know I pulled you off of that roof," Claire continued to explain, tilting her head so she could keep eye contact with his wandering gaze. "You know I can't die, I can't even feel the pain. So why did you take the fall for me?"

Silence fell between the pair for what felt like a very long time. Finally Sylar began to speak hesitantly, "I see things. Flashes of people I've never met. My mind forms memories that I'm almost certain I've never experienced." The hand on her shoulder trailed up to cup her cheek. Instinct made her want to lean into the touch, but she remained frozen in place. "What am I seeing, Claire?" His unseen hand came up to tuck a bit of hair back. "Why am I seeing you?"

A jolt ran through Claire's body at his last question. Ripping herself away from the warm fuzzy thoughts from earlier she stood up suddenly, rubbing her palms on her legs before crossing her arms over her chest. He remained on the ground for a moment more before standing as well. "There – There's a Carnival," she stuttered out. "The Sullivan Brothers Carnival."

"Are you asking me out on a date?" he poked with a pleased smirk.

Before continuing she was sure to give him a pointed glare. "You spent some time there before I found you. Don't know how much time, I don't even think you really knew. Being a carnival they move around a lot, but they shouldn't be too hard to find. Especially for you."

Sylar nodded slowly, accepting the information as truth. "You do know I am coming back to see you as soon as I am finished there."

"Never doubted it," she admitted. Not wanting to tell too much, she paused momentarily before continuing. "There's man named Samuel there, I think he's the leader. Don't trust him. Even if you feel he isn't lying to you, he probably is anyway."

"And I should trust you?"

Claire was about to snap about past records of more honest, good choices vs. serial killer related ones, but she simply settled for a shrug. "If you want to." Before any more could be said Peter's voice rang from nearby, sending a flare of alarm through her. "You've got to leave." As his gaze reached beyond her it seemed as if for a moment he was going to ignore her. "Sylar!"

His attention returned to her as he hovered, then speeded away into the sky. Relief flooded through Claire just as Peter rounded the corner. "Claire!" he exclaimed running up to her. "Where is he?"

Her head tilted in annoyance. "Hello, Claire. How are you? Thank you for saving my life earlier."

"Quit playing around," he snapped, looking around wildly. "Where'd he go?"

"He left," she explained, gesturing up. "Flew off a little bit ago."

He whirled around to glare at her angrily. "How could you just let him get away?"

"Excuse me, I did not 'just let him' do anything!" she yelled, not appreciating his attitude. "And yeah, let's blame the pregnant woman with no offensive powers for letting the psycho escape."

Her reminder of her condition was enough to diffuse whatever anger was inside Peter. His facial expression turned apologetic as he rubbed his face. "I'm sorry. How's the baby?"

"It's okay. I mean, everything feels alright," she admitted referring to both statements, trying to imagine the level of frustration and sorrow that was going through him at that moment. It was supposed to be Nathan's day. "I miss him, too."

A tired smile that didn't quite reach his eyes came over him as he moved to hug her. "I just feel that I'm betraying Nathan by letting him stay alive. Or at least free."

Guilt stabbed at her gut knocking the air out of her. "I know what you mean."

Pulling out of the hug, Peter led her back to the entrance. "Why don't you go up and find Emma. Then we'll get out of here."

Claire paused at the door when he seemingly refused to head up with her. "Aren't you going to come with me?"

He hesitated, remaining perfectly still just outside the door. "I think you've got a hang of it, don't you?""

"You made a scene when you went back to the apartment, didn't you?"

"Oh yeah."


	13. Chapter 12

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Nope, not at all mine.

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

A/N: Thank you everyone for being patient with me! I love that you guys are still reading and reviewing! 3

* * *

_So hold me when I'm here, right me when I'm wrong,  
Hold me when I'm scared, and love me when I'm gone,  
Everything I am and everything in me  
Wants to be the one you wanted me to be.  
~ When I'm Gone; 3 Doors Down_

His memories were dark for the most part, like he could never full obtain them.

Occasionally there would be a sound he couldn't make out.

A flash of light hair that he couldn't place where it belonged.

A touch on his skin that burned with a need for more.

A hopeful whisper brushed against his skin, which he was compelled to repeat.

This dream was of the hopeful and erotic variety. At times they were full of desire for power or stress or anxious confusion, but not now. At the given moment the unseen woman laid at his side, apparently content to remain there. Though he could never fully see her, he knew she changed in appearance, but the woman mostly remained with this form. Through the haze he clung to her tightly, feeling a level of protective possession he hadn't felt in such a long time.

Suddenly his world view jarred away as someone from the real world addressed him. "Sir," repeated the voice accompanied with a firm shake of the shoulder. "We've arrived at our stop for the night."

Sylar blinked his eyes open, agitated to find the bus driver prodding him awake. Ignoring the man he stood up and swiftly exited into the night. The town he had stopped in was small, relatively off the map. Despite the reduced population and lack of any WalMart or Starbucks he knew he was in the right place. Approaching a diner that was closed until morning, he grinned at the flyer attached to the glass.

Sullivan Brothers Carnival was residing in this town for the time being. And it was where he would get his answers.

X~X~X~X~X

Later the following day Sylar wandered with the crowd to the bright lights of the Carnival. Despite the small size of the town, there were several people purchasing tickets and milling around. Using the crowd to his advantage, he managed to slip through between ticket takers unnoticed.

As he moved amongst the people he could feel the constant thrum of abilities that grew stronger the farther into the grounds he walked. Everyone working a booth or a ride had a power, as well as a few patrons. Being around so many specials woke up the hunger to a degree he could barely contain. The only reason Sylar stopped was the potential that any one of them knew what had happened to him.

He wandered around for a time, no one seeming to pay any attention to him until all of a sudden a boy caught his eye. Perhaps 10 years old, the boy stood a few feet away and stared at him. In the shock of his stare he had dropped the ball he had been bouncing against the ground. Giving pause, Sylar began to head towards him. At this motion the boy scooped up the ball and scurried away, but the action appeared to be motivated by delight rather than fear.

Intrigued, he followed the boy as he slipped between two trailers to a back stage area. From what he could see it was abandoned, probably because everyone was on performance duty. Just a simple barrier of a few trailers and some space muffled both the noise of the Carnival and the dense wall of abilities he had been dredging through.

Turning another corner, Sylar saw that the boy had enthusiastically ran up to a man holding a bamboo stick and a woman sitting in a chair with a bare back. Though they were behind a set of sheen curtains, he could see them well. The closer he came he thought he saw a gray cloud spin and fade on the woman's back, but he couldn't have been sure.

The boy appeared highly animated while speaking to the pair before spotting him from a distance and gesturing wildly. The man stepped out from the slight partition, smiling widely. The boy also smiled as he scurried off.

"Brother Sylar, it's wonderful to see you've found your way home!" exclaimed the man with a brilliant smile, holding out his arms for an embrace. Accepting the brief hug, the man placed his hands firmly on his shoulders. "You must see what has been done here. We have new family members, new goals, new ideas for us all. All of which I think you will find of interest."

"I can't wait to hear about it all," he replied, curious to find out how it related to him.

"Wonderful! Before getting down to business, why don't I introduce you to the new people, show the new set up." The Carnie began to walk away, but turned back a second later asking with a grin, "Or perhaps you would prefer Lydia to show you around again?"

"Who?" As soon as that word was spoken, the man's face deflated slightly.

"I told you he wouldn't know," muttered the woman, putting her shirt on as she stood. She approached the pair, gracefully holding out a hand to him. "I would be Lydia. It is wonderful to meet you again."

"I know you?" he asked, deciding there wasn't any reason to lie.

"Intimately so," she replied with a hint of smug pride in her voice as she stroked slender fingers over his wrist. An eyebrow quirked up on his face. How much had he gotten around in his blank state?

The man smirked and clapped his hands together. "Well, reintroductions are in order then. My name is Samuel Sullivan, I am leader of this fine entertainment. And you met Lydia, something of my right hand lady." Sylar merely nodded as the Carnie Master continued. "Now, I have to ask, if you don't remember your time here, what led you back to us?"

"Perhaps I was hoping you could tell me," he ventured vaguely, attempting to get a feel for how they would react to him. "I heard a rumor that I may have spent some time here. Now it's leading me to think about something."

"It couldn't be the companionship and need of our family, could it?" ventured Samuel. In the way he posed the question, Sylar understood him to be a charismatic charmer who could convince nearly anyone to give him what he wanted. He couldn't figure out whether he admired it or was jealous.

"Actually I was thinking of how quickly I could rip away everyone's ability."

For a fraction of a second they appeared worried, then Samuel chuckled in amusement. "Now there's the Sylar I've heard so much about. A far cry from the one who visited us a few months ago."

Holding back from delivering on his threat, he played along. Offering a smile and a chuckle of his own he stated, "Just trying to show that I mean business now."

"That's something I don't mind," oozed the woman as she wrapped an arm tightly around his, squeezing against his bare forearm. She closed her eyes as her finger tips glided over his skin, a motion that was both unnerving and relaxing. "I can see you're searching for something."

"You're searching for answers," observed Samuel, with an extra bit of energy in his actions as he pointed with both hands. "That is something I can provide you."

"Are you certain that's a good idea – ?" started the blonde, but she was immediately cut off by Samuel.

"If he is asking for help, who are we, his family, to deny him?" His tone was laced with distinct warning, but never was there the hint of a lie. "We do have a man here who can show you what you need to see. Last time complications arose, but seeing as how you are more yourself now I believe it will work."

Sylar allowed them to lead him back into the populated area. Once more the hunger reared up as they moved closer to people, but he again swallowed it down. He didn't trust any of these people, but at the prospect of some definitive answers he was willing to play along. Then he would kill them all.

As they walked several Carnie members appeared to abandon their work stations to catch a glimpse of him. Some kept their distance, while others smiled and waved. "I made an impression on this many people?"

Lydia gave a perfect impish smile that gave Sylar the feeling she had practiced it far too many times on men. "It's more the promise of your return that has the family excited. There were doubters, so those of us who held faith are elated."

This made him seem like a messiah of sorts to them, something which indicated he was going to be used at some point. He was not going to let that happen no matter what he may have promised them during his time with his memory wiped.

Finally arriving at the mirror house Lydia removed her arm from his and stood back. Samuel then stepped forward, slapping a hand onto his back to direct him in the entrance. "The answers you seek shall be in here," he promised, waving an arm amongst the reflections. "This here is Damian."

A man stood in the middle of the room with eyes that made him appear nearly dead. Whatever power this man had was one that Sylar did not desire as it had clearly sucked away his livelihood. Without turning away from the man he turned to address Samuel, but found he had left.

As Damian led him to the center of the mirrored room Sylar could feel the thrum of his power, though he still had no idea what it was. Damian said nothing when he exited so Sylar waited in the middle, turning to look from one glass reflection to another.

Nothing happened for quite some time. And it was leaving him restless.

"What exactly am I supposed to do in here?" he shouted, turning back to where he thought he had entered. Only now he appeared to be trapped in a circle of mirrors. "Is this some sort of trick?"

He raised an arm to slash a mirror when the glass fogged over. Startled, Sylar lowered his arm. Moving closer he watched his reflection disappear to show the Carnival Master in the dark beckoning him to join come towards the lights. The image became smoky as the scene showed several images of his time here at the Carnival. As Sylar looked from mirror to mirror he observed and remembered. Awakening in confusion, meeting all the members, being baptized into the fold, having sex with Lydia, working various jobs, breakfasts with the family here.

As these recollections and more flooded his mind, for some reason he kept flashing back to the blonde empath he had slept with. There was another memory there trying to come through, but it was as though it were being blocked. Each mirror was covered with a collage of his time at the Carnival, but in the corner of one Sylar noted a shadow of another blonde on top of him. Pushing through the headache he was receiving from the barrage of remembered thoughts, touched the glass where the memory was clearly trying to be snuffed out.

Once his fingers came in contact with the smooth surface Sylar yelled out in pain, grasping his head. While his Carnival time continued to play out, images of Claire Bennett slammed into his mind. Crashing into her by accident, her unexpected kindness, slipping into her bed – wait, was that her seducing him? – followed by news of Nathan's death, but why had that news come months after he had slit his throat?

Pulling at his hair he collapsed to his knees as a third set of memories attacked him. He had been Nathan Petrelli. The circumstances of that happening in the Stanton was just coming through when everything began to overlap. Images of Matt Parkman and his family began to come forth. His memories were turning into a muddle of overlapping experiences and emotions that had no timeline and continued to hound him.

All Sylar could muster was one out of control laugh just before his world turned black.

X~X~X~X~X

Despite the splitting headache, Sylar stumbled out of the trailer. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it was still night time. Or perhaps night time on another day. The pain in his head continued to subside as he walked down the length of the trailer. Reaching the corner he found Samuel and Lydia plotting. She noticed him, offering a welcoming smile, "How nice to see you awake."

"I trust the memory retrieval was successful?" asked Samuel, adding ingredients for ink into a jar. "You've been out for over a week."

So much time to catch up, he thought idly, rubbing his eyes as everything cleared up. "I remember everything," he stated with remarkable calm that was fading rapidly.

"Wonderful news," he replied with considerable enthusiasm. He set down what was in his hands in order to give a congratulatory shoulder grab. "I was just going to consult Lydia to find how your recovery was going. But now that you are joining us, I think there is something else we could look at. You will probably find it quite interesting."

"The thing is Samuel, I said I remembered everything," seethed Sylar, feeling powers tingle under skin, begging to be used. He didn't care about learning the plans, he cared about revenge. "Including what caused me to leave in the first place."

The man picked up a jar of ink in order to mix its contents, not overly concerned with what the news would be. "I did wonder what had happened."

"You thought you could use me as your own personal assassin," he muttered. He greatly enjoyed watching Samuel's face blanch, only adding to his desire to take drastic action. "I do not appreciate being tricked."

Lydia tensed in the chair that was just out of his reached. "That was never our intention –" she attempted to begin, but Sylar held a hand up to squeeze her throat closed.

"Your lies actually smell rancid," he hissed, applying just enough pressure to prolong her suffering. His head tilted back to Samuel, his words spitting in sarcasm. "Would you like me to demonstrate my qualifications for the position?"

A nearby carnival member saw what was happening. He cried out in protest, running over to stop what he was doing. With barely a glimpse at him, Sylar slashed out in the air to slit his throat. As the red streak splattered across the dirt, the man was reduced to gurgling as he fell to the ground.

Before the light faded completely from his eyes, Sylar had Samuel strung up like a puppet in the air. "I thought I made it clear with Edgar that I will not be used."

Samuel began to laugh slowly, causing him to hesitate slightly. "You think this is all about you, don't you?" he laughed. "You couldn't be more wrong."

In a rush of anger Sylar released Lydia, who fell to the ground gasping intensely for air. Now with a free finger he held it up to prepare to take what should be his. "I am going to enjoy taking your ability."

He began to slice slowly through his skull and smiled as Samuel screamed in pain. However what Sylar didn't know was when he was distracted Samuel had gained control of his body. He was so wrapped up in tormenting his victim he never noticed the small round rock floating off to the side of his head.

With a flick of his finger Samuel sent the rock flying through his attacker's temple, burying it deep in his brain. Sylar went down dead for the moment and Samuel collapsed to his knees with his head burning. Every time his heart beat the pressure built where the incision lay.

Needless to say, this hadn't gone as had been planned. Again.

"You're going to need stitches," murmured Lydia with a hoarse voice, firmly pressing a ripped portion of her skirt against his head.

Wincing through the pain, Samuel gently pushed her away to stand unattended. Despite the gush of blood from removing the rag from his head, he concentrated to use both hands to separate the ground down several feet. Addressing the crowd that had gathered at the commotion, he instructed, "Throw them in face first. That should buy us some more time."

Two brothers came forward immediately and dragged Sylar's dead form followed by the other man to the bottom of the makeshift grave. By the time Samuel closed the earth a worrisome chatter had risen in the crowd.

"I think it is now clear that Brother Sylar will no longer be a part of our family," he began raising his voice so all could hear. "I know that some of you are concerned. Some of you believed that he was going to be the one to bring our salvation to us, I myself was under that impression. But reset assured; it is still coming. Even if we have to take it by force, our protection will come!"

A roar of approval rippled through the people and Samuel smiled in pleasure. Going into hiding for the next three months or so would be difficult, but for the freedom and safety of his family it would be worth it.

X~X~X~X~X

Tri-weekly tea time at Sweetie's had become a normal thing. Though the older woman had insisted upon lemonade due to the caffeine in the traditional beverage, they still referred to it as such. Amidst the uncontrollable giggles rolling throughout both women, Claire somehow heard the ring of her mobile. An unrecognized number was calling and with a breathless voice she answered. "Hello."

A stony silence was on the other side.

"Hello?" she repeated, mirth disappearing from her voice. "Who is this?"

Still silence, though she could hear breathing this time.

"All right, I'm hanging up now –"

"Do you know that your skin tastes like vanilla?" inquired a voice she would recognize anywhere.

"Sylar." Claire's breath sucked from her body as she listened, Sweetie doing the same across from her. Three weeks had passed since the funeral and there had been no word from him. Now all of a sudden he had decided to call, being as mysterious as ever while talking in seductive tones. Collecting herself she did the first thing that came to her mind; arguing the facts. "That's not the scent of my body wash."

"That's what always surprised me, Claire," he sighed, she practically could see the grin on his face through the phone. "It was a citrus smell, but yet on you it was sweeter, smoother, perfectly natural on you."

"Is there a point to this?" she cut off. "Because I'm actually busy right now. This doesn't prove you know anything except potentially what type of shower supplies I buy."

He chuckled at her bluff. "It was to make you comfortable, you know."

"This phone call? Have to tell you it's not working."

"You prefer bare feet," he began again, sounding somewhat distant. "And I knew you wouldn't die after I took your power, so I did what I could."

A cold sweat over came her. She clung onto the table to keep a hold on the world. Sylar was answering her question. The one she came up with the first night they had made love. Meaning he had found a way to recall what had happened. Speaking through a dry mouth she stated the obvious. "I guess you know it all now."

"And yet I still have several questions," Sylar drolled out.

"Figure the answers out yourself," she snapped, clicking the end button. With a fluttering in her stomach, non child related, and sweaty palms, Claire closed her eyes while breathing slowly. Her mind could only focus on the fact he had called, she couldn't even begin to process what had been said. Once she had calmed she to address Sweetie's disbelieving face. "What?"

"What the hell was that?"

Flustered by her friend's abrupt attacked Claire blinked in confusion, "I don't know what –"

"You've been depressed ever since he left," she reasoned with a hint of impatience. "Then all of a sudden he calls so you decide that behaving curtly is the way to act."

"Are you lecturing me?" she asked slightly offended. She leaned back in the chair to better rub her belly. "I don't want to see him again. Not now, especially not like this."

"It was just a phone call, Honey Child, and considering your current condition, it's the best way to appease him without face to face contact which is what you want." When Claire remained unresponsive, Sweetie frowned and reached across the table. "You know what, give me back that lemonade."

"Hey!" she protested, jutting her lip out in a frown. "Just promise me if he stops by…"

"Absolutely," promised Sweetie sincerely, though the next statement held just a tick of sarcasm. "If your soul mate comes by I will call your father just like I said I would."

"He's not…" Claire's eyes slighted, but she didn't feel herself actually become angry. "You are a horrible tempter."

The buzz that indicated a received text message ran through her phone. _"I'll give you some time to think it over. Contact you soon."_


	14. Chapter 13

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Wish I could, but cannot claim.

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

A/N: So it's been a little over a year since I first posted this fic and, by George, I am bound and determined to complete it soon! Thank you so much for staying with me all this time, being patient and supportive. Here's the latest installment. Hope it doesn't disappoint!

* * *

_Sit back down on the couch where we  
Made love the first time and you said to me,  
There's something, something about this place.  
Something bout lonely nights and my lipstick on your face.  
~ You & I; Lady Gaga_

"You know I don't want to push the issue, but have you thought about telling anyone else?" questioned Sweetie. "Namely, your family?"

Claire exhaled a tired sigh as they walked down the street, grocery bags in hand. "Of course I've thought about it, but what would I say? They'd want to know why I waited so long, who the Dad is, how it's happening so fast. It's just stuff I'm not ready to deal with."

"Well you best get in the mood for dealing with it," she announced. "You're coming right up on month 5 and those sweatshirts won't do anything to hide your ballooning figure soon after that time."

Frowning, she consciously shoved a free hand into the front pocket stretching out the fabric. "I've got plenty of room," she mumbled, yet knowing her neighbor was absolutely right.

Sweetie let out a hearty laugh as they passed a large black van that was perpetually parked outside their building. "You keep telling yourself that, Honey Child. You certainly made it farther in normal clothes than I ever did. Though I do admit, I enjoyed getting a new wardrobe with every child and post-child."

It was Claire's turn to laugh as they climbed the stairs to their floor. "That's every woman's dream, isn't it? Any excuse for clothing?"

"Gotta admit, this isn't the best way to achieve the dream, but an excuse is an excuse," she reasoned. "It was a constant rotation for a few years. Get knocked up, new clothes. Give birth and loose half the baby weight, new clothes. Loose half of wardrobe to various baby messes, new clothes. Repeat for every baby. Let me tell you, the day I finally approached my husband wearing very un-mom lingerie – Sweet Jesus, what are you doing here?"

Claire froze, her mind reflecting what Sweetie spoke aloud. Her blood turned cold and was overcome with the desire to run, but was it back down the stairs or towards the man leaning by her door?

"I thought it was just Claire that called me that," smirked Sylar.

"That is just rude," chastised the older woman approaching him.

"I'm sorry, Sweetie," he muttered, immediately having the foresight to appear shamed.

"Come here you!" she exclaimed, enveloping him into a large hug. This shocked Claire out of her statue impression forcing her to walk forward, sweaty palms be damned. The neighbor pulled back, moving to pinch his cheeks. "Look at you, Sweet Cheeks, we've missed you so much!" The pinch turned into a slap, and the mirth disappeared from her face. "Now where the hell you been, boy?"

Claire couldn't help the laugh that escaped her at his stunned expression. His eyes shifted to hers and she was nearly paralyzed with emotion again. "I thought you said you were going to call," she said trying to not let her inward jolt show.

"No, I said I was going to contact you soon," he clarified. "I never specified how that would happen."

"I don't really appreciate unannounced visits," she grumbled, shifting the bags. "I mean, what if I had company? What if I had a date?"

Sylar's gaze darkened. "I wouldn't like it."

She tilted her head, not appreciating being told what to do. "Not really your call."

"I still wouldn't like it."

The energy remained charged between them as they stared at each other until Sweetie cleared her throat. "As fun as it would be to sit in on this reunion, I think I have a phone call to make. Isn't that right, Claire?"

"Yeah," replied Claire, maintaining eye contact with Sylar as she unlocked her own door. "Go ahead."

X~X~X~X~X

Sylar followed her into the room, shutting the door behind him. He watched her set the bags on the table so she could slip off her shoes. He smirked at the expected action, just realizing how much he missed the little habits. "So how long do we have before your dear old daddy shows up?" She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued speaking, "I assume that's where Sweetie went."

Her eyes slighted before she gave in. "I'm not sure. He hasn't been around much, constantly on assignment."

"Let's get down to business then," he offered, flopping down onto the couch. Oh, the fond memories in this particular spot.

"What's the business?" Claire asked, obviously avoiding coming too close to him. "If you remember all our time together, what more do we need to talk about it?"

"I haven't really decided yet. I'm just here to rub it in," he thought aloud. "Or blackmail. I take it Daddy Dearest and Super Uncle don't know about us?"

Sylar thought he could hear her teeth actually grind together. "Not yet…"

"You were going to volunteer that information?" he asked skeptically.

She gave a curt nod. "Eventually." She wasn't kidding, which gave him a pause so she continued, choosing to remain standing. "Where have you been all this time? How'd you get your memory back?"

"I went to the Carnival. You were right about Samuel, he's slipperier than a freshly peeled melon. But he pulled through with returning my memories, which let me tell you was an unpleasant and lengthy process.

"And this took you nearly six weeks?"

Sylar grimaced, not caring to admit his problem. "Considering the fact I had nearly a year's worth of memories tearing through my brain, my mind overloaded. I was still disoriented when I was buried alive then I needed a little me time, even after I called you."

Under her breath he heard her mutter something that sounded similar to, "Wimp," but he chose to ignore it. Instead he silently observed her. Something was different. She had clearly been stressed; dark circles under her eyes, wearing sweats, hair back in a messy pony tail, and though it looked good she had even put on a little weight. Despite all of this, he couldn't help but have a clearer head just being near her again. In his mind she still looked perfect. "Well?" she interrupted his thoughts. "Are you actually going to ask me anything?"

"So, I make you feel normal?" he asked with a tease.

"Not right now you don't," she sassed defensively.

"Fair enough," he allowed with a laugh. "Next topic, would you have really left with me?"

Claire went to mess with the objects she had dropped on the table. "It was your idea," she mumbled, beginning to empty the bags.

"And yet you were the one who was willing to implement it," he pointed out. Stretching out on the couch he continued, just enjoying watching her. "How exactly were you going to play it out? Were we going to hide out in rural America? Play house there for a little bit until you got tired? Or was it going to be some place in Europe? Move around to a few of the more glitzy cities when things grew stale there?"

"Are you going to mock absolutely everything I said or did with you?" demanded Claire, slamming a can down on the wooden surface. "Turn it back on me to hurt me for your amusement? Was it so painful for you to feel normal too that you have to take it out on me?"

Finally she was opening up enough so he could get to his point. "Do you remember on the roof? Before Parkman put me back together?" Though her stance was still tense, she nodded mutedly. "I hurt you the most then."

"Well you got something right," she replied with a slight crack to her voice.

"I interrupted you on that rooftop," ventured Sylar evenly. "I have to know what you were going to say."

Her head jerked in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?" she snapped. "You wouldn't let me say it. I guess my chance to pour my heart out in the moment wasn't convenient enough for you or whatever, but that moment has passed now. So tough luck."

"I don't care about back then. I was soft, delusional, and weak," he spat out disgusted with himself. He stood suddenly to better observe her reaction. "I want to know what you would say now."

"Now?" she repeated with a wide eyebrow raise, allowing him to better see her precious eyes. "Right now I would say get the hell out of my home."

"Claire." With her name he made it clear she had better answer him with the truth.

She hesitated, moving her jaw considering something. "I don't know."

He stood as his eyes slit at her honesty. "How do you not know?"

"When you came here today, what did you want to do to me?" she inquired with a sigh.

"I was torn between kissing you senseless and torturing you," he replied without missing a beat.

"Then how can you demand that I have an answer, when you're still figuring things out yourself?"

"Because I know you've been thinking about it too," Sylar countered, walking near her to lean against the table. "You know what I've been thinking about the most," he began in a deep suggestive voice, which was enough of an effect to make her falter in her handling on a small bag of apples.

Barely his hand he caught them with his mind, bringing them into her hands. Awkwardly her lip twitched in an amused fashion, "Thanks."

He enjoyed the teasing, making her uncomfortable and embarrassed. "I've been thinking about the different ways you enjoyed my powers," he leered, leaning in near her. "And all the powers we never did try out."

Her eyes narrowed. "Cut it out, Sylar."

Of course this only inclined him to push her comfort level. "Just so you know I do have this ability that you might appreciate when used in the shower."

"If you think this is going to turn into a booty call, then you can leave right now," announced Claire, sounding both angry and 100% certain of her answer. "Just drop it."

Something about the way she said this rang odd to Sylar. It was more than just a decline; there was no conflict, no fleeting desire, no hatred. There was no emotion attached to the decision, it was simply a fact in her mind. He decided to push a little more. "Are you sure?" he asked, sliding into her personal space. He reached to drag his hand up her arm, "If you'd like something more normal I think I remember that we never did discover how durable the kitchen table was…"

"I said drop it," she snapped, ducking out of reach. The flush on her skin indicated her interest, but there was something stopping her.

"There's something different with you," he realized, grabbing her arm to make her confront him.

"Please don't touch me," she gasped, slipping out of his hold as she continued to back away to the other side of the living room.

Instead Sylar grabbed at her again, spinning her to face him. He gripped her jaw to look at her entirely. Something that danced in her eyes wounded him. "You're scared of me."

"Terrified," she breathed out in barely a whisper.

"You weren't before," he reasoned, extremely bothered by this revelation. "You haven't been scared of me in a very long time, not since I took your power. What changed?"

Claire backed away and strongly held out her chin. "Well, we aren't exactly buddy buddy anymore, Sylar. There's this whole thing where I don't trust you."

"You shared with me everything about your life," he offered, trying to make the situation better.

"And what do you do with that information? You come in here talking about blackmail and torture, that's not really a way to bolster the relationship," she explained, sounding absolutely pissed off. "Or how about on a less personal matter, when was the last time you murdered someone?"

His eye brows furrowed into a displeased frown. "When was the last time you asked Noah that question?"

It was enough to make her pause for a moment, but she continued with the fiery passion of before. "We are not talking about him, this is about you right now. When was the last time you murdered someone? Hell, I'll even give you a little leeway. When was the last time you _had_ to kill someone? Was your or another person's life in danger? Could you have gotten away with just harming them? Or was it selfish, man pride like usual?"

Besides the man at the Carnival, he had killed two others on his way here. One man to steal his car and throw any followers off his trail, and another for a power pick me up. "Five days ago."

There was a drop in the intensity of Claire's eyes. "Oh…"

"Don't look at me like that," he growled, shaking her frame.

"Like what?" she sassed. "Like you're a monster?"

"No," he hissed, not remotely bothered by the monster comment. "Like you're disappointed in me."

The harsh glare on her face softened a bit. "I don't want to be," she whispered.

Sylar allowed himself to feel some hope at the simple admission. "If I stop killing people you'll trust me?"

"It would be a big start," she conceded, her voice indicating that had been an obvious answer. "We still have a long way to go though."

Smiling slightly he reached for her hand, squeezing her hand and pleased to feel that she gave pressure back. "Gives me something to look forward to when I see you again."

"But I don't want to see you again," rushed Claire. The utter clarity and honesty from this statement threw him for yet another loop as he dropped her hand. Time seemed to have stopped for a moment as indescribable fury and despair coursed through him. "Not for a few weeks at least."

"Sorry, what?" he blinked back to the real world with her clarification.

"This is still weird," she explained hesitantly. "I want a little bit of time to wrap my head around this whole thing before we meet up again. Do you think you can respect that? No tricky wording, no surprise visits. You won't pop up until I'm ready?"

Sylar remained silent, not at all appreciating the conditions of this arrangement. He was inexplicably desperate to keep this connection. As much as he hated to admit it, he was the one who had to make things up to her. "Then you have to pick up your phone when I call."

"Deal," she instantly agreed. Speaking of phones, hers began to ring at that moment. Her eyes flickered over to where it lay on the coffee table. "I'd bet that's my dad. You'd better get out of here."

Claire started to walk away, but he pulled her nearer. "I didn't come here to fight with you," he began, knowing that time was running out, but needing her to understand. "I want you to trust me. I want you to get to know me. I can't explain why, but this is important to me. And I think it's important to you, too."

As opposed to letting her contradict, he took the initiative and sealed the deal with a kiss. Not an action she objected to Sylar took the full opportunity to make it last as he wished. As this was the first kiss they had shared since his mind had been whole, he wasn't about to let it be the one she forgot. Tugging at her hair he pulled out the pony tail as she came in closer, though his mouth couldn't get any closer to her face. Ever touch of lips, ever sound, every sensation wasn't enough and he craved more. He craved every part of her. Claire kept a hand pressed against his stomach for the illusion of distance, but they both knew this kiss was as intimate as they had time for.

She gave a small gasp for encouragement so he continued to press his lips against hers, not that he minded in the least. As his tongue touched hers he determined this was something he definitely had missed. She was hiding something, he was absolutely certain, but he'd rather spend his remaining moments doing this than asking questions.

Despite the fact that the door crashed open, Sylar continued his lip lock with a hand trailing down her side. Waiting just a second more, he continued the kiss to be sure her father observed their activity before he leaped for the window.

X~X~X~X~X

As he tore his lips from hers to jump out of the window, Claire let out a brief cry as she felt part of her heart rip away. She couldn't hear the shout from her father for her to move; she barely registered him barging to the window, firing two shots down to the street, gesturing wildly for someone to go follow him. But she knew Sylar would be long gone.

Her hand remained covering her mouth, attempting to hold back sobs. Noah holstered his gun in order to attend to his daughter. He gripped at both of her shoulders to get her full attention. "Are you alright? What happened? Did he harm you?"

She shook her head, looking up at him with tear blurred eyes. The level of concern her dad showed to her tipped the pile of extreme confusion she had felt in the past months. Despite Sylar's promises, she felt more alone and frightened than she had in a long while. She just couldn't keep it to herself anymore. "Dad, I have to tell you something."

"What did he do to you?" demanded Noah, eyes going dark.

"No, it's not like that… I mean, yeah, but not like you're thinking…" Claire shook her head to get her thoughts in order. "Do you remember Nathan's funeral, when I told you I had just gotten out of a bad relationship?"

"Did Sylar do something to him?"

Wordlessly she shook her head, still hiccupping. "It _was_ Sylar."

Noah's fingers dug into her shoulders as his face paled. "No…"

"It wasn't like I planned it," she tried to reason as he turned away in dismay. "He had amnesia, he needed help and answers, he had no place to go –"

"So you invited him to stay here!" he filled in the blanks, shouting in a pure anger.

"If you guys hadn't lied and had just killed him at the Stanton, none of this would have happened," she threw back, not enjoying having to defend herself despite knowing all along this would be the case.

"You cannot blame me," he countered with eerie calm. "You still knew who he was. You still knew what he had done; to you, this family, to countless victims around the world."

"He didn't remember any of that –"

"And that makes it okay?"

"That's not what I mean!" yelled Claire, losing all the calm she had held together. "Quit twisting my words around!"

"Did he convince you that's what I do?"

"Stop it! Just stop it!" she exclaimed. "I screwed up, okay!" she yelled, crying harder. "But you have no idea what it was like. One day realizing that I was going to be all alone. That a hundred years from now you will all be dead and I might not even have the capability to feel that grief or sadness from the loss."

"What are you talking about, Claire?" Noah asked, calming down from the initial anger burst.

"I can't feel pain and I can't die," she explained sniffling. "Who knows how long it'll be before I don't feel anything, emotions or physical sensations."

Her father's eyebrows were knitted up in confusion. "Why didn't you tell me? You're probably not the only special who has had this problem, I'm sure it's nothing you need to be worried about."

"I know that now," she said with a little smile, remembering her bathtub meltdown and what had resulted afterwards. Her chest lightened the tiniest bit. "And you want to know who helped me understand that. Sylar." She let out a little relieved giggle. Wiping her face dry, she announced, "If I could do it all again, would I handle things differently? Probably, but I refuse to be sorry for the outcome."

"But what about now?" pointed out Noah. "Does he share in your revelation?"

That stopped her. Sylar had never blatantly said as such, but the whole arrangement they worked out was because he felt the same way. Right? She supposed this time apart would be to figure that out. Tears blurred her vision once more and she couldn't help but curse her hormones yet again.

"We now have to figure out the game he's playing here. What he has to gain by using you? What it is that he wants?"

"I'm sorry," she cried absolutely exhausted. Not able to do much else she just stood there and repeated the phrase. Too tired to argue anymore, she just wanted everything to be better. "I'm sorry."

Noah hugged his daughter as she continued to apologize. "It's alright," he muttered. "Everything will be alright, I'll see to it."

He led her to sit down on the couch before getting out his phone and walking down the hall. Claire let him handle business without any questions, finally just getting her tears under control. Her face felt puffy and her eyes throbbed with her heartbeat. She realized she hadn't even got to the bombshell part of her news as she held both hands over her abdomen. It was a wonder that Sylar hadn't noticed.

When Noah returned Claire released a calming breath, mentally preparing for another yelling match. "I was just calling my partner for news. He's heading back up here now." Claire nodded blankly becoming more and more nervous. They remained awkwardly silent for a few moments before he cleared his throat. "Come here," he instructed with wide arms. Numbly she stood and wrapped her own arms tightly around him.

"I am scared, Dad," she admitted, burying her face into his shirt.

"Everything will be alright, Claire-Bear." During the hug she heard someone enter the apartment. Presuming it was her dad's partner she continued the embrace. "Everything will be alright," he repeated with a little choke in his voice and gripping her tighter.

Claire whipped her head back to find Rene striding up to them, one hand out towards her. Her struggling was useless and all she could do was let out a scream of protest as his hand came in contact with her forehead.


	15. Chapter 14

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Cannot claim.

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

A/N: What's this? Two updates in one month? :-) I know how much that cliffhanger would've irked me, so I doubled timed it to complete this chappie. Wonder how many of you saw this coming?

* * *

_Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you.  
By now you shoulda, somehow, realized what you gotta do.  
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.  
~Wonderwall; Oasis_

Claire scrunched her eyes and froze as the cool touch of the Hatian's hand met her skin. Every part of her being rejected what he was going to do to her, the wipe of all the good times, the world going to black.

But nothing happened.

"It is not working," stated Rene in his thick accent. Claire's eyes flew open at the statement. Didn't work? Matt's telepathy didn't work, the abilities used on Angela's rooftop didn't work, and now this power wouldn't work. What was different?

Her mind flipped to her baby, the only thing that was different in her life that might cause such a change. Given its parentage this was no surprise, but neonatal powers? Had this ever happened before? Putting this revelation on the back burner, she focused to deal with the situation at hand. Releasing her arms she pushed as hard as she could against Rene causing him to stumble backwards, before turning to her father and slapping him as hard as she could. The shock of the hit knocked off Noah's glasses.

"How dare you!" she cried out. "How dare the both of you!"

A stunned Noah slipped his glasses back on, looking to the Haitian for answers. "What happened?"

"You tried to wipe my memory!" she yelled more, allowing the fury to poor through her body. "Why would you do that!"

His face reflected worried regret, "I only wanted to help Claire-Bear –"

"Don't you 'Claire-Bear' me," she snapped, picking up a pillow to beat on him. "I confess my big secrets to you and you just want to sweep them under a rug!"

"I only wanted to protect you, so you wouldn't have to deal with his torment," he reasoned, avoiding blows while backing away to the door. "You would've never had to find out."

Not certain how she could possibly have become angrier she redoubled her efforts to force them to exit. "Get out! Go!" she yelled, getting pushier with her pillow hits. "Could you imagine what would have happened had this worked?"

Rene had chosen the wise route, leaving the apartment as soon as she had struck her dad the first time. Noah now reached the entrance, still attempting to salvage the situation. "This doesn't change the fact that Sylar used you. Make it a clean break away from here, to get away from him and those memories. I promise you, it was just to make things easier for you. You would never have known."

"Oh, I would know," stated Claire darkly, standing firmly in the apartment while Noah was finally out in the hall.

"How?"

"Because, Dad, I'm fucking pregnant!"

His indescribably stunned face was met with a resounding slam of the door.

X~X~X~X~X

"Thanks for coming early for my check up," expressed Claire, allowing her uncle into the apartment. "You didn't take any messages from my Dad did you?"

"You asked me not to," replied Peter, slinging his bag onto the table as he took a seat. "Not that he hasn't been trying. Over and over and over again."

"Yeah, me too," she sighed absolutely relieved. Following his lead she sat in the nearest chair. "There are two things I want to talk to you about. First, I'm pretty sure my baby has an ability."

He blinked with excited wide eyes. "That's fantastic! How did you find out?"

"Matt and Rene's powers didn't work against me, then the same thing the day of the funeral with you and…you and Sylar," she explained, trying to use his name naturally.

"You think the ability is like Rene's?"

"No, not exactly. Because the lightning still worked and Matt's telepathy still worked, just not where I didn't want it to." Peter nodded, clearly trying to think through what she was telling him. "Okay, I'm not all that sure how it works, but I was wondering if you'd be willing to borrow the ability for a little bit. Try it out, let me know what you think."

Peter's hand covered hers. "Done," he offered with a reassuring smile, obviously excited to play with his new toy. "How did you know Rene's power doesn't work?"

"Because Dad told him to erase my memory tonight," she answered evenly.

Her uncle reared his head back in confused concern. "Why would either of them do that?"

"Look," she sighed, biting her lip against the swell of nausea she felt. Reaching across the table she grabbed tightly onto his hands, holding on desperately so he would believe this wouldn't be an attack on him. "I'm going to start at the beginning because I need you to understand. And I know that by the time I get to the point you're going to be so mad at me that you'll stop listening."

"What could I possibly be mad at you for, Claire?" he started, but she cut him off.

"Peter, please, you're only making this harder," she started, looking away. "I want to tell you about the guy that stayed here with me."

"What's bringing this up?"

Her eyes shifted to watch him push away the med kit bag to give her his full attention. "The fact that he came by for a visit tonight."

"Where is he now?"

"Gone to I don't really know where, that's not the point right now. Do you know why I invited him here in the first place?" He shook his head, encouraging her to continue. "It wasn't because his mind was so mangled he couldn't remember his own name or what food tasted like or how fabric felt. It was because I had never seen that level of innocence, and confusion, and fear on anyone before. But I had felt it inside me. Trust me, inviting a strange man to my place still seems creepy, especially when it comes to him, but I refuse to apologize anymore."

"Why should you need to?" he reasoned causing a stab of guilt to cut through Claire. "Why did he stop by?"

"He came back tonight because he remembered that particular month," she informed swallowing thickly. "Besides expressing his interest in, uh, well you know…" Peter smirked sympathetically as she blushed. Thinking about the next bit she giggled nervously. "I think he's genuinely interested in trying to form a solid relationship."

"You don't seem very excited about this though," he observed, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Did you tell him about the pregnancy?"

"No," she answered quickly. "And I really don't think he noticed, which I think is good. For now at least."

Peter frowned at her last statement, but moved past it. "None of this explains why Noah or Rene would want to wipe your mind."

"Because they saw me with him," she explained, suddenly with a dry mouth. Not able to look him in the eye she cast her gaze down at her clasped hands. "They saw me with Sylar." Claire held her breath, waiting for the imminent freak out from the man across from her. The seconds ticked by so slowly that she had to peek at him. Peter's face was white and he was frozen in complete silence as the fresh information worked its way through his mind. "It was Sylar." No change in reaction. "Please say something."

"I can't listen to this," he exhaled, burying his head in his hands as he stood.

"I wanted you to hear it from me," she pleaded. "I never lied to you, Peter, I explained to you from the beginning the situation with the dad was complicated and that I would let you know later –"

His fist hit the wall four times as he let out a muffled scream of frustration. Claire flinched slightly from the sudden violence outburst. "Why didn't you say anything?" he yelled, holding none of his fury back. "Did you not trust me with the truth?"

"Honestly, I didn't trust what you would do with it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look at yourself," she desperately explained, gesturing a hand towards his frustrated form. "You're so angry that you're ready to go out and tear him limb from limb and anyone who gets in your way. Add that to your fury after Nathan's death. If I had told you before the funeral you'd have been even more reckless and sloppy, because let's face it, if I didn't pull Sylar off the roof that night you would have died. And I'm not ready to lose you yet."

"I have to ask," he paused as though considering whether or not he really wanted to. "The day I called you to let you know my brother was dead, while I sat next to his cold lifeless body, Sylar was here wasn't he?"

"Yeah."

"He still stayed here."

"Yeah."

"Did you sleep with him after that?"

She couldn't help but stare at her worrying hands again. "I did."

"Dammit, Claire!" he exclaimed, slamming both hands into the wall this time. "The moment you got off the phone did you jump him as a thank you?"

A cold shock slapped her face. "Of course not. How _dare_ you say that!"

"You slept with Nathan's murderer! Even when you knew full well that he was!" he screamed. "You're pregnant because of him! And you deliberately didn't tell me! Do realize how messed up this sounds?"

"Quit yelling," she requested, choosing to not stand because she thought her legs may give out.

"Who else knows?" he asked with a little more restraint. "Who knew before me?"

She took a deep breath, knowing he wouldn't be happy. "My neighbor, Dad, Rene….and Angela."

"You told my mom?"

"Hello, her ability," she sassed. "She knew before I did."

"I still don't understand Sylar. How could you have done that with him? You know what he was! You know what he's done! And still decide to use poor judgment! How can you not feel disgusted with yourself?"

"Okay, so Claire screwed up, find a new freaking tune!" she at last yelled back, sick of being treated like dirt from those close to her. "I finally opened up to you and this is the situation now. So just accept it and move on to the next problem."

"This isn't just something that can be accepted!"

"Then get over it! I can't change anything!"

The front door opened wide, slapping against the wall. The jarring noise was enough to make the argument stop in order to inspect. Sweetie stood there in that old pink nightgown, with Claire's spare key in one hand and the other propped firmly against her hip. "I don't know how you aren't sick of it yet, but I know I'm tired of people coming to your home to scream and preach at you."

"Sweetie, it's fine really, we need to get this out in the open," she stated, though internally thankful for the interruption.

The older woman clearly ignored the request, choosing to focus solely on Peter. "Aren't you supposed to be her nurse doctor or something? How bad is it for that child to have her be stressed by you?"

"Who are you?" he asked in disbelief.

"Peter, Sweetie. Sweetie, my Uncle Peter," she rush introduced.

"Alright then, Mr. Uncle, maybe you should take your tantrum elsewhere before you do something real bad."

"I'm not going to hurt her," he insisted, which Claire believed.

However Sweetie's eyebrow cocked up in a manner that indicated she did not. "I may be pushing 70, but I can still teach you a lesson, boy." To prove her point she strode a few steps forward, firmly twisted Peter's ear up in her fingers, and proceeded to drag him towards the door. Clearly surprised by her actions, he had no choice but to follow letting out small yelps of pain. She chucked him out of the apartment, followed closely with his med pack, with a firm nod of her head. "And you stay away until you feel you've calmed yourself down. A lot."

When the shock from the events wore off, Claire couldn't help but laugh. The display from the past minute tickled her silly, but it wasn't long before the laughter turned into crying.

X~X~X~X~X

Once down on the street Peter leaned against the building, catching his breath from the stress of the moment. Just thinking about what he had been told made him feel physically ill. Half stumbling along the wall in the dark of night he shook his head to try and clear it. Coming across some trash cans he kicked them down in anger. A dog barked in the distance as he flopped to sit down on the curb.

The man murdered his brother. The man had tried to take over the president's office. The man had been determined to see New York City blow up. The man had even killed him how many times now? Hell, the man had killed her mother as well and tormented her in the safety of her own home. Yet she had welcomed him into her home, into her bed, despite knowing all of this on the short list. And even now she protected him.

He didn't understand. By all accounts Claire should hate that man, but lingering feelings were obvious. What hurt the most was the lie. By keeping the secret from him she had joined the groups of people in his life who had distorted his life by keeping the truth hidden. Despite her warnings Peter couldn't help but feel torn apart.

A sudden motion in the building across the way caught his attention, putting him on edge. Getting a second look around, Peter noticed a few things that were out of the ordinary. The black van with darkened windows that always sat a few feet down the street, an apartment across the street that had what seemed to be a telescope peeking through the blinds, the homeless man down the next alley that seemed to be paying him a little too much attention.

Attempting to appear natural he picked himself up and walked down the sidewalk to where the van idled. Once past it, he glanced behind noting there were no license plates on the vehicle. Pushing down the feeling of dread he traveled a little farther before taking his phone out. Even after everything he learned he still felt the urge to protect, to move onto the next problem as she had put it.

"Noah…Yeah, I just saw Claire. I know about it all… Listen, I need your help. I think she's being watched. I think by a lot of people."

X~X~X~X~X

Curled up in bed by herself, Claire allowed the tears to run freely down her face as she stared at her cell phone lying next to her. Some part of her brain realized how illogical it was to will someone to call, but that didn't stop her from wishing it to ring.

She was now on day three without contact from anyone, even Sweetie. The first two days had been her choice, finding nonjudgmental seclusion relaxing, but now all she needed was for someone to assure her things would work out alright.

The child within her made some sort of movement bringing a laugh from Claire. "Why, thank you," she muttered to it with a slight smile, placing a reassuring hand over her belly.

The phone next to her rang once and Claire had it pressed up against her ear. "Hello?"

"What are you wearing right now?"

Despite the smutty question, her entire body relaxed from the tense position she hadn't realized she held. Rolling on her back she smiled peacefully. "You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice."

On the other end Sylar chuckled. "Didn't think I'd get you to say that so soon."

She smirked at his confidence. "It's just been a long couple of days."

"It's because you miss me," he teased. "If you need I could stop by real quick…"

"Nice try."

"Or real long…"

"Sylar," she cut off, failing to cover the mirth in her voice before getting serious. "My dad and Peter know about us."

"What caused the sudden honesty?"

"Well with Dad seeing us wrapped up like that, it didn't take him long to connect the dots, and Peter was only a matter of time after that," she sighed, not overly upset by the fact anymore. Though she wasn't speaking with either of them, they were people she didn't have to hide from. "You didn't come here to antagonize me, did you? I get that now," Claire expressed what she had been pondering for days following the small lull in conversation.

"I needed to know where you stood," he explained simply. "I needed to know if the experience affected you so strongly too."

"You could've asked," she pouted.

"Not the same as seeing it," countered Sylar, something she agreed with. "Now, to make things even I believe I owe you a story from my life."

"When was the last time you killed someone?" she rushed out before he could begin.

She could almost see the puzzled expression on his face. "Over a week ago."

"Good." Sighing contented, she settled back into the sheets more comfortably to listen. "That's good."


	16. Chapter 15

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Don't own this stuff and too broke to pay.

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

A/N: Hi everyone! Same old, same old on this end. Real life, blah blah blah, schools, blah blah blah, work, blah blah blah. But, huzzah! New chappie! And if I might say some rather…fun stuff happens here. ;-P That being said, note the official rating change, cuz things get a little intense here… Anyhoo, thanks for all the support and reviews guys!

* * *

Chapter 15

_I don't know what's worth fighting for or why I have to scream.  
I don't know why I instigate and say what I don't mean.  
I don't know how I got this way, I know it's not alright.  
So I'm breaking the habit Tonight._

_~ Breaking the Habit; Linkin Park_

After the camera in Emma's hand flashed she nodded at her subject, using a finger to twirl in the air. "Good, now turn." Relifting up her shirt to expose her belly, Claire did as she was instructed. Standing against the blank wall in her living room she stood still as the other woman snapped another image. "Everything looks good, as usual," smiled Emma, shutting the camera off. "I think soon we should go to the hospital to do another ultrasound, just to be sure." As she slipped the object back into the med bag she brought she pulled out two photos. "Here are the ones from last week."

Adjusting her shirt to cover herself up, Claire accepted the photographs. Looking on them she saw herself doing the same poses she had just performed, only with a stomach that was an inch and a half smaller. The right corner reflected the month, date, and time it had been taken. A box under the coffee table held pictures from weeks past, it was something Peter suggested as soon as the condition of the pregnancy had been discovered. As she added it to the collection she noted the gleeful way Emma put away her equipment. "You just want to see the colors again." She gave a sheepish grin continuing her cleaning. The younger blonde sighed, no longer able to keep her thoughts to herself. "Peter's still mad at me, isn't he?"

Emma ducked her gaze down. "Every time I come to see you I try to let him know," she offered with a sympathetic smile. She had been stopping by twice a week to keep up with the neonatal checkups.

"But he still won't call me back," she uttered, awkwardly shifting the position of the magazines in front of her.

The other blonde sighed, "If it makes you feel better I haven't talked with him in days."

She blinked. "No, that does not make me feel better."

"Something else is bothering him," she admitted reluctantly. "He took vacation from the hospital and the last time I saw him there was a man visiting. He was in a suit, had large glasses. There were papers and notes everywhere that they tried to hide from me."

"Oh, God," sighed Claire rubbing her forehead to will the stress away. "I really hope they're not on a revenge bend."

Emma's lip twitched up. Gently touching her arm she asked, "Do you love him, that man?"

Her stomach clenched and breath left her body as she closed her eyes. Flashes of the past few months came to mind that warmed her heart against her will. With a hand she caught the tear that began to fall down her cheek as she nodded. "I do. I really do."

"I know he's done a lot of terrible things, but do you believe in him?"

"Absolutely."

"I know that Peter believes in you. It's difficult to see now, but he has faith in what you believe in. He is going to come around eventually."

"That's going to be a tall order," she muttered, wishing desperately things would turn out that simply. The phone in her pocket rang showing the unknown number that Sylar had been using for the past couple of calls. Her mouth quirking up she held the mobile for Emma to see. "It's Sylar. I should take it."

Her doctor, ever closer friend, smiled widely before she saw herself out.

X~X~X~X~X

The bubbles in the large tub had still remained, but Claire still didn't feel refreshed. With pruney fingers she rubbed the swollen belly and let out a tiny sigh. Almost four months ago she had shared this place with Sylar. He would sit behind holding her, his fingers trailing patterns over her skin, whisper things in her ear while his chest rumbled against her. Using the loofa ball she unconsciously copied the phantom touches along her arms and chest. It didn't take long for her nipples to become sensitive to her actions.

He used to do this too, wash her body down, but tease her as he moved the ball all over. Swooping the loofa over her breast again she hitched in a quick breath of air. In response Claire used her free hand to immediately grasp onto the flesh, flicking and squeezing the little nub. A more guttural groan escaped her while her eyes fluttered shut. "Sylar," she muttered, almost feeling and seeing him there with her.

She was jolted out of her daydream as her phone buzzed abnormally loud on the sink counter. While embarrassment settled in the pit of her stomach her hands jerked away from her body as she sat up suddenly, sloshing water around in the processes. Smoothing back her hair she breathed out to cool down. Realizing the mobile still rang she grasped it up, accepting the call.

"It took you longer to answer than normal."

Sylar's tone held no accusation, only observation. The water around her waved slightly as she fidgeted coming up with a less embarrassing answer, the blush on her skin mounting furiously. "Angela's been calling a lot lately and I would prefer to continue avoiding her."

"Be still my heart," he breathed sending a shiver down her spine, not at all quelling the desire from moments before.

Before the conversation could progress to territory she wouldn't have the capacity to back track on, she asked, "When was the last time you killed someone?"

"Just over a month ago," he replied obviously having anticipated the inquiry. "Where are you right now?"

Lifting a leg she allowed the water drops hitting the bath surface to be heard through the phone. "I'm in the tub," she stated coyly, unable to keep the mirth out of her voice. "Just trying to relax a little, but the bath alone isn't quite…cutting it." She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears, anxiously awaiting his response.

Sylar remained quiet for a moment while she held her breath for what seemed like forever. "And you're looking for someone to give you relaxation tips?"

"Uh-huh," she affirmed, feeling her heartbeat in her ears. "Where are you right now?"

"Alone," he assured. The click of a lock could be heard. "And not to be disturbed."

He was clearly waiting for her to do or say something to gauge her comfort level. Nervously, the blonde asked, "Don't these things usually start with a question? Something like, what are you wearing?"

"That's not a very fair question," he purred, calming her just a little. "Considering the fact that you're answer will be nothing."

"I was actually going to say bubbles," she replied biting her lip becoming more and more excited. "And, I would appreciate it if your answer was nothing as well."

"You're feeling take charge tonight, aren't you?" he observed. In the background she could faintly hear clothing rustle, a noise that made her scoot up with just a little more attention. In the middle of these movements he asked, "Where are your hands right now?"

"I'm holding my phone with a hand," she answered, frozen in place and blushing even harder.

Sylar tutted on the other end. "And the other one?"

Suddenly very shy, she gulped. "It's on my chest."

"What's it doing on your chest?

"It's…I'm…" A squeak of embarrassment left her as she blurted out the answer. "I'm playing with my nipple."

"That a girl!" He chuckled on the other end obviously amused by her nervousness. "Would you like to know where my hands are?" Claire managed to peep out an affirmative. "Like you, one is holding the phone, but my other has a hold on my dick."

"Oh, God," she moaned with a hip jerk at the mental image presented to her.

"I want you to keep playing with that nipple for now," he hissed out trying to maintain his own control. "But I want your hands to make their way down to your thighs."

Her nipple was tugged at again while the other hand firmly rubbed along her sides and behind. "God I miss you," she murmured slightly breathless, her admission changing his breathing pattern again. The hand continued down to settle just inside her thigh. The one still minding her breast suddenly left its place, obviously speeding down to beat the other fingers.

"Don't touch your center yet," he ordered and Claire ceased her movements.

A deep tremor of desire rippled through and settled in her stomach. "I thought I was the one who was taking charge tonight."

"When you've earned it," he informed. "I'm standing in the middle of the room, imagining it's you on your knees, your mouth and hands all over me." Her inner muscles flexed in excitement, but she did not move her hands. "Am I in the tub with you?"

She licked her lips before confirming, "You're behind me, reaching around to take care of me, but every time I shift my hips I'm rubbing against your erection. And the noises you make, like that one there, only make me move around more. I crave those noises."

The man on the other side moaned in appreciation that only pulled on her deeper down below. "I need you, Claire," he stated hoarsely. "I need you to admit it too."

Wanting to touch herself but being denied, Claire all but missed his request as she dug her nails deep into her skin. "Sylar, please, let me…"

"Say it again," he demanded she could tell through clinched teeth. "Say you missed me."

"I've missed you so much," she gasped out, rubbing her thighs together in a vain attempt at some sort of friction. "I think about you, when you're going to call, I need you too…"

At last he gave permission, "Take two fingers and move them straight in, fast and hard. The other hand traces around those lips." Finally being able to touch where she ached, she was under the impression it would ease some tension. Instead the opposite happened and she was left feeling more sexually frustrated, but did it feel fantastic.

His fervent grunts egged her on to redouble her efforts down south, which in turn added to her gasps and moans; an endless cycle between the two. Feeling herself start to twitch she instructed while panting, "Squeeze the top tightly and quick stroke the base."

In the background she thought she heard a bump as though Sylar had firmly backed into something for support. Pleased her suggestion had an effect she couldn't help the little laugh that eased out. "I don't think you're paying enough attention to yourself," he chastised. "Remove both hands."

She followed his direction, her breath hitching from loss of contact. The sounds of him still pleasuring himself made it nearly impossible to obey.

"Now three fingers straight in, then your other thumb pressed hard on your clit." She did as she was told and was immediately rewarded with her first orgasm in weeks, with a throaty groan to prove it. As she rode out the blissful waves she heard him cry out a, "Yes!" from a distance, obviously having dropped the phone. When it was clear he had picked up the device again she couldn't keep the goofy grin off her face.

"So," sighed Claire absolutely contented, settling back into the tub. "How was your day?"

X~X~X~X~X

Arriving at Sweetie's apartment for the second 'tea time' of the week, Claire was a bit surprised at the speed at which the old woman ushered her inside. However, she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of her grandmother standing in the middle of the cluttered living room.

"You have got to be kidding me," muttered Claire, turning around with the intention of leaving.

"What did you expect, Claire, you wouldn't return my calls," informed Angela appearing far too pleased with herself.

Her plans of getting out of there were thwarted when she saw Sweetie firmly blocking the exit. "You're in on this? You hate her."

"Exactly, so you know if I think her idea holds water it's worth listening to," she explained with an expression that made it clear she wouldn't be moving.

Agitation and tension settled in her joints as she turned back to Angela. Crossing her arms and tilting her head, Claire wanted to make it explicitly clear she did not care to listen to anything she had to say. "I'm giving you five minutes. And it had better be good."

Her grandmother shifted her shoulders and readjusted her hands. "What sort of plans have you made for this child?"

"Excuse me?" asked Claire, anger punching her chest. "My _plan_? My plan is to raise, take care of, and love it without any lies. The way you're talking makes this baby sound like a mission. And I refuse to treat it like that."

"You misunderstand me," Angela clarified, apparently amused by her assumption which only irked Claire more. "Have you prepped for a nursery yet? Purchased clothing or diapers of any sort? Baby proofed anything? Read any literature on the subject?"

A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. She hadn't thought about any of that. Though in her defense it had only been about three months, her due date was rapidly approaching. "No," she admitted quietly. "No, I haven't done any of that."

"No, you've been too busy flirting with the baby's daddy to consider much else," she stated pointedly with disapproval.

The blonde whipped around to Sweetie. "Did you tell her?"

"She didn't betray your confidence, Claire, I saw it," she explained coming up to her, taking both hands in hers. "I implore you to cease communication with him. That way only lays pain for you and everyone involved."

Claire slipped her hands away and felt her eyes narrow. "This wasn't the part I particularly agreed with," interjected Sweetie from behind.

Angela glared towards the other woman before continuing. "I realize I cannot force you to do that, nor can I force you to come live at my manor for a time."

"What?" stated Claire in disbelief. "Why would I do that?"

"Because I have everything prepared for the child. Basic needs, room, clothing, protection, security; for both you and it," she listed, brushing back bangs that weren't in her way. "You can stay for as little or as long as you need."

Pursing her lips she made a distrusting tick sound with her tongue. "What's the catch?"

"No catch, dear," explained her grandmother, regret all over her features. "I told you before that I am simply trying to make amends. Consider this another olive branch."

Not caring to admit this was a sound option, she stiffly offered, "I'll think about it."

"That's all I'm asking." Angela squeezed her arm once and saw herself out of the room.

X~X~X~X~X

The hunger ate away at him.

He tried to hold it off.

Tried to ignore it, distract himself from it.

However he knew from past attempts the draw of it would only grow.

That was why he hunted this particular family.

A husband, wife, and teenage son that he believed each had an ability. He figured a feast this large would settle him for a long while.

Sylar played out the motions as he used to. Putting the victims on edge with paranoia, sneaking into their home, cutting off communication to the outside world, pinning them down one by one. He started with the man. Ignoring the screams of protest and fear from the other two family members he dutifully sawed open his skull and dug around his brain. Once he reached the center that held the answer he looked for.

He paused.

It was a power he already held.

In frustration he flipped the lifeless body across the room, landing it in front of the other two. Growling in anger he next took the woman, thrusting her down onto the ground near her husband. Her cries went unnoticed as he sawed off her skull spraying a bloody mess in his wake. Despite the hallow sensation mounting in his chest, he continued with his work. While he took her ability, the boy somehow got loose without him noticing.

A golf club connected with his head and he fell to the ground. The teenager continued to beat at him for a few moments, killing Sylar for a short time. Once the boy let up determining the attacker was defeated, Sylar shot him across the room. The boy crashed into a metal sculpture hanging on the wall, impaling him through the chest and killing him instantly.

Sylar stood looking at the destruction he had caused. The room torn apart from the initial struggle, blood was spattered across almost every surface, a significant amount still dripped from the teenagers mouth and chest wound.

Observing the carnage he created he couldn't help but feel off. Wrong.

This 'victory' tasted bitter. The hunger quieted slightly, but even it was almost mocking him. This wasn't what he needed anymore. It wasn't what was needed to sate the desire. What had changed?

He now felt disappointed?

Unsatisfied?

Numb?

Unable to tear his eyes away, he removed the cell phone from his pocket with bloodied and stiff fingers. Working on autopilot he pressed redial and placed it against his ear as he slid down the wall still staring at the bodies. "Hey, you," came a sweet voice that he in no way deserved. "I'm glad you called. There's actually been something I want to talk to you about."

"What have you done to me?" he roughly accused.

"What have I done to you?" clipped Claire. "It should be more like the other way around."

"Ask me the question."

"Question? Sylar, what are you –"

"Every time I call you ask me a question. So ask me it," he demanded with haggard desperation.

She started and stopped a sentence a few times before doing as he requested, the hesitation and dread evident from her. "When was the last time you killed someone?"

"About 47 seconds ago," he replied blankly, not able to look away from the carnage. He heard her sharp gasp on the other end. "There were three of them, a family, all with what I thought I needed –"

"Why?" she asked. He could hear the tears from her already, a sound that didn't fit with what he was seeing. "Why would you do that?"

"I used to do this all the time. No second thought, no mess ups, I would get what I wanted and leave," continued Sylar not really listening to her. "Everything went wrong. It's a mess…"

"I don't want to hear –"

"I'm still with them," he stated, feeling unbearably empty as he watched the pet cat step over to its master. The woman remained on the ground where he left her and the cat meowed before it began licking up the blood that had splattered all over her face. Again, there was nothing. "They're son is still lodged on the wall, he died surprisingly fast."

"Stop –"

"The mother's brain is still under my nails –"

"Sylar!" she shouted loud enough to jar him to momentary quiet. "Could you pause the details of decorating the walls with intestines, please, and give me a moment?" He allowed her the time as he continued to stare. The silence in the room proved to be deafening as the hunger scratched away at him a little more. "Why would you call me immediately after murdering people?" she requested with even words. "Why would you even do it in the first place, you _promised_ me…"

Her voice sounded so far away, it was difficult to focus on. "I couldn't control the hunger. It needed an outlet, something to make it just be quiet. But now that I'm done, it wasn't enough. I need more."

"_Please_ don't kill anyone else," she pleaded.

"I hate being this way," he admitted, only half hearing her. "The hunger was born to hunt, to find what would make me complete, but now harvesting abilities isn't enough to make it stop. It needs something else."

Silence once more. A car alarm sounded in the distance as the stench of what he had done began to become clear. "You can't keep hiding behind that excuse," expressed Claire, just sounding saddened, "You didn't keep your promise, and instead went right back to a creepy hobby you enjoy."

"I didn't enjoy it," he realized, putting the broken pieces together slowly as the reality of the situation bore down on him more deeply with each passing minute. "There was something missing…"

"Sylar, I love you, but you cannot keep doing this. This hasn't been easy for me either. I have stood up for you time after time in recent weeks and I refuse to back down. I don't believe you are willing to just throw everything away between us either. Not now."

Something clicked inside him. "What did you say?"

"You're not going to throw everything away after what we've been through."

"No, before that," he demanded almost eagerly finding the energy to stand up, turning away from the carnage.

"I said –" Her sudden silence indicated she caught up to his point and despite his predicament Sylar smiled. It was fairly obvious to him what the hunger needed. "We need to talk about your victims," continued Claire, obviously moving right past her other point. "All of them. I need to know what you did to everyone and why. And after that…I want to meet up with you."

"Are you sure that's something you want to go through?" he asked. He wouldn't hide anything from her, in fact the thought eased him to confess it all.

"It's time, I don't think we should hide anything from each other anymore," she announced. "Get out of there, get cleaned up, then call me back. I think we have a long couple of talks ahead of us."

Both hung up and Sylar could only stare at the mobile device in his hand. Ignoring the blood caking it from his last victims, his lip quirked up at the screen that still flashed the call ended number. "I love you, Claire Bennett."


	17. Chapter 16

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Sadly, don't own; so no profit. Just here for fun!

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

A/N: Finally! Next chapter completed! Also, I am _thisclose_ to being done with the next one, so expect that in two weeks (you know, finals kinda suck time away. Can't believe it's that time of year again!). And just to let you guys know this fic is probably going to sit around 21 or 22 chapters, just depends how things flush out. So the end is in sight!

Anyhoo… Enjoy the latest enstallment! :)

* * *

Chapter 16

_And life is like a pipe  
And I'm a tiny penny rolling up the walls inside  
We only said good-bye with words  
I died a hundred times  
~ Back to Black; Amy Winehouse_

"You are such a terrible liar!" squealed Claire in excitement into the phone. With the mobile crooked in her neck, she used two hands to gingerly replace the lid on the red nail polish. She gave her bare toes a quick glance, but knew better than to try that at this stage of the game. Putting on socks proved difficult enough and she didn't particularly want the coffee table ruined.

"That is not a story I could make up," Sylar assured, sounding equally amused, if not a bit embarrassed, on the other end. "I burnt up worse than a well done bacon strip."

"You and your food metaphors," she teased lightly. They weren't even finished with their conversation, but already she was immensely looking forward to the next time he called. A lively set of taps at the door caught her attention. Claire giggled while waddling over, figuring it was Sweetie. Her jaw went slack for a moment upon seeing her visitors before addressing the phone. "I'm going to have to call you back."

As she hung up, Noah stood still looking at her wide eyed at her condition while Peter scanned the hallway they were in. "We need to talk," stated her father in a tone that meant business.

Weighing her options Claire inhaled a calming breath and opened the door wider. "Either of you do something I don't appreciate I am calling Sweetie over," she warned.

Her father appeared perplexed, but Peter nodded, "We don't stand a chance if we screw up, got it."

Once the front door was shut she was going to speak, but Peter held a finger up to his lips for silence using his head to indicate to the other man. Noah held a small electronic device in his hands, turning to different directions and fiddling with whatever was on the screen. No matter how angry she might be at both men, Claire had enough common sense to allow him to continue uninterrupted. He ducked down the hall, leaving the pair in awkward silence. "We should be clear," he reappeared, tucking the tech back into his jacket.

"Okay, what the hell is going on?" demanded Claire.

"I was checking for additional bugs.

Her jaw jutted out, accepting deep down that her anger was only going to grow today. "Additional?"

"Other than the ones I put in here."

Air rushed out of her lungs in anguish, turning away for just a moment before catching onto what was left unsaid. "Why would you do that and why are you telling me now?"

"Because you're being watched," interjected Peter. Gesturing to her phone he referred to her previous caller, "You still haven't told him yet."

"He's still working through some issues after being mind split," she explained. "Plus at this point it might be easier to wait, because, hello," she finished pointing dramatically to her stomach, before crossing her arm absolutely ready to argue. "So it's fair to say I'm not being watched by Sylar, because he hasn't said a thing about this."

"I wouldn't be half as worried as I am if it were him," Noah stated, throwing her for a loop. "If there's one thing that's clear about his profile it's that he is fiercely protective about family, despite all his missteps in that direction. Remember how recklessly he saved you from that black hole when he believed you were his niece?"

Claire blinked in an attempt to clear her head. "Are you trying to sell me on him as a person? Because I've got to tell you, I'm already there."

"No," he jumped quickly in anger. "I'm only trying to stress how dangerous these other people are. Sylar is the least of our problems right now."

"Okay, making it clear right now. Sylar is not a 'problem'," she stressed. "And Dad, as grateful as I am for you doing this research, I'm pretty sure you haven't thought about this kid. I mean really, I'm talking about on a personal level. Because no matter who the father is, I want you to realize that you're going to be a grandfather very soon." Any argument he was going to fling back died in his throat as a look of consideration fell to him. She addressed her uncle while he thought. "Tell me about this group of whatever."

"That would be groups actually, as in plural." Claire felt herself blanch in terror as she instinctively flipped her hands to cover her stomach. The baby twitched at the adrenaline rush, just on alert as the mother.

"What exactly do you mean by 'groups'?"

"Cults, sects, syndicates, mobsters, underground markets, and independent agents hold varying interests in what that baby can do," explained Noah coming back into the conversation. "That includes harnessing or destroying this opportunity."

"Well goddamn, I have a black market baby," she muttered taking a second.

Peter sat next to her, squeezing her arm in a comforting manner. "From what we can tell the baby is the next step in people with abilities. There has been no record of a child being born with an active ability, much less a mother who is able to access them while they are in the womb. Everyone who has an ability was born with the potential for it, but it's always had to take time to manifest."

Rummaging through the backpack they had brought, Noah removed a stack of papers. Claire accepted them and began to flip through. "There's been a legend of this coming to pass for a few centuries back. The idea is whoever holds this individual near to them will be invulnerable and will enhance their own natural talents permanently. There is also a theory that this individual will naturally gain additional powers throughout their lifetime."

"Looking through the literature this kid is thought to be a Messiah figure," added Peter, pointing to a few passages. "Offering protection to those who truly believe."

Claire skimmed through several of the pages. "Who says it's actually my baby that's their Messiah? Couldn't my baby just be a relatively normal kid? Not be remotely related to this?"

"Perhaps. But the point is they believe it," Noah answered as he nodded to the window. A shiver went up Claire's back at the notion of being watched.

"The odd part about you lending me that power was it only lasted a few days," explained Peter, flexing his hands as though demonstrating an imaginative power. "And the entire time I accessed it, it felt like it didn't belong to me. Like the ability didn't appreciate being borrowed."

"What could it do?" she asked full of curiosity.

"From what we could tell it was like a force field or a shield, blocking and deflecting any abilities we could find. It was like a void formed where I wanted it to, to where abilities I wanted to work would work." Though his explanation was less than graceful she nodded, finding the new information made sense with everything that she had experienced. "It was tough to tell at the end, but I think I was also able to boost other people's powers."

With a crazed grin she looked down, stroking her belly. "You hear that? You're a black market battery. Aren't you so special?" she informed. She could feel her child squirm in response, almost as though it were amused by this. Claire's smiled broadened, believing that even prior to birth her child seemed to accept tough humor.

"Your best option right now is to leave town and go into hiding."

"I will not," she stated insulted, coming back to the conversation.

"Claire you have two weeks left. If that," gestured Peter to her ever widening belly. "No one watching you will expect a drastic escape this late in your pregnancy, especially since they think you're not aware of them."

"Then Sweetie comes too," she negotiated immediately, not missing a beat, knowing all of this would hit her fully later. The two men side glanced at each other, an action that steadily pissed her off more and more. "Look, she is the only one who hasn't completely freaked out and abandoned me. If she's willing to, then she comes with."

"I have a few places in mind, a few contacts who owe me a favor," elaborated Noah. The fact he had skipped right over what she requested was not missed by her. "If we keep rotating you from place to place every few days, it shouldn't raise suspicions."

"No, I'll stay at Angela's," she stated with equal certainty from before. "She offered me asylum a few weeks ago, now I want to take her up on that deal." The men side glanced once more, the simple continuous action cemented her stubborn negotiations. "I stay with Angela and Sweetie comes to."

"Are you really willing to take that risk?"

"With or without your permission, this is what I'm going to do," she insisted, keeping arms crossed as best as she could. Peter's face was clearly amused and on her side, as he turned to look to Noah with a small shrug. After a time, her dad sighed while nodding his head as he gathered his papers up. "I'll go get a small bag then."

X~X~X~X~X

Sylar watched the old man leave his car, assisting his younger grandson with the seatbelt before both walked to the waiting household. Once they moved inside, he moved closer to see in the large window. He watched the grandfather interact with the boy in the sitting room. The boy played on the floor while the old man sitting in one of two recliners.

Sylar knew the other chair would remain empty.

He had killed its owner over a year ago.

This was the 27th home he had visited in the past few weeks. He had been inspired to visit the families of his victims, to see how taking the life of one of their loved ones had affected them. With the exception of one man and another woman whose spouses clearly abused them, the results overwhelmingly indicated that he had caused irreparable harm.

The phone in his pocket buzzed, surprised to see it was Claire since she so rarely called him. He hadn't told her of what he had been doing, feeling it was something he needed to come to terms with on his own. "This is an unexpected pleasantry."

"Hey, where are you right now?" she asked, sounding a little on edge.

Furrowing his brow he wandered away from the house and down the street. "Somewhere in South Carolina, why?"

"Do you think you could come to New York? I – I kind of need to see you, but you have to _promise _you won't freak when you get here."

"Is everything alright? Are _you_ alright?"

"I will be," she responded vaguely. "You remember the hospital Peter works at? Would you mind meeting me here?"

"Why there? Claire, what's going on?"

"Just…I'll tell you everything when you get here, I promise. It's way too weird over the phone." He looked to the sky in preparation, knowing the moment she asked he was going to do whatever she requested. "See you soon?"

"I'll be there in just over an hour." Sylar hung up before destroying the phone, he had kept that one for too long and would steal another upon reaching New York. Dropping the pieces on the ground, he prepared to take flight when a needle lodged itself into his neck.

Instantly his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and his vision swam to black. He lost the ability to control his body, subsequently collapsing. "Well done, Mr. X-Ray," congratulated a voice standing above him. "Share with Mr. Alpha we have collected Mr. Gray. He will be delighted to hear the good news."

X~X~X~X~X

Claire hated hospitals. The favorite part of her ability, normally, was that she no longer required them for herself. Also, she hated her inability to feel pain; normally. Of all the times for her baby to enhance and fix that part of her brain had to be during labor.

Twelve days after her easy apartment escape her water broke and, just like planned, was taken to a secluded wing of the hospital. Sweetie served as her breathing coach while Peter and Emma were the medical personal. Noah and Angela were instructed to wait outside the room. It was too weird to Claire to have her dad in the room while she was showing everything down below. And she was still upset at Angela for decorating the nursery in ceiling to floor pink, thus giving away the sex of the baby. She had hoped for it to be a surprise.

After 13 hours of failed labor they decided to try a C-section. That was when she decided to call Sylar. She realized she couldn't to go through all of this without him.

He never showed.

And the C-section hadn't worked.

Her ability wouldn't allow for her flesh to remain cut open and her daughter wouldn't allow for any other power intervention. At this distressing development, Emma brought out the ultrasound machine. As she looked up at the colors while trailing the wand over her stomach, she couldn't hide the worry on her face.

Her daughter's heartbeat was slowing down. Without it being spoken aloud, Claire knew that without an alternative the baby would die inside her.

Peter left the room to figure other options. She grabbed onto Sweetie's hand while Emma turned her back to consult her equipment, also trying to come up with a back up plan. "Why don't you try calling him again, Honey?"

She shook her head, struggling to keep her panic under wraps. "The line he was using is dead. I'm not going to get a response now." A muffled, short jingle came from the older woman as she pulled out a mobile phone. Upon looking at it, she immediately began to type a reply. Furrowing her eyebrows, she asked, "You can text?"

"Just not my favorite thing to do, but for my granddaughter I'm willing to try," she replied, slipping the phone back into its place. Squeezing her hand, her demeanor became more serious. "You're going to be mad at me, but I think I might know someone who can help. We've been here over half a day and I can tell things are only getting worse."

"What are you saying?" she asked, putting the pieces together far slower than she would if she wasn't in perpetual labor. "Are you working for someone?"

"No exactly," she admitted. At those two words Claire whipped around to get Emma's attention, only to have her shoulders grabbed by Sweetie's. "Please, hear me out. It's my granddaughter. She has an ability of her own, knows more than a few who have some as well. I mentioned you to her and she seems to think they can help you. They'll be here any minute."

"What could they possibly do for me here that hasn't been tried?"

"That's just it, you wouldn't be staying here," she added, obviously sensing her discomfort. "You'd have to go with her and the friend she's bringing along."

"They're coming here _now_?" she clarified with some alarm. Upon her nod Claire shook her head vehemently, struggling to get out of the bed away from Sweetie. "Sweetie, I am not going –" Before her disagreement could be completed the door clicked open. Her head turned expecting to see her certain tall, dark, and handsome; but was greeted with empty space. The curtain attached to the ceiling moved as though someone was near it and Claire knew what ability the granddaughter had. Her stomach sank in dread. "No…"

Becky materialized with a little wave. "Long time, no see, Claire," she poked, clearly amused at her own joke.

"_She's_ your granddaughter!" Claire fought to get away pushing her feeling of betrayal down, but found moving to be impossibly difficult. "No! Not you! I'm not going with you!"

"You don't really have a choice, do you? You're not looking so hot," the other young girl inserted with an air of innocence, placing her hand against her forehead.

Not caring to be touched by this girl she whipped her head back. Out of the corner of her eye Claire saw Emma stand up, just now noticing the new visitor. When she moved to intercept a blur collided with her, sending her to a crumpled heap on the floor. "Now was that really necessary?" asked Sweetie with a disapproving frown while the blonde cried out in protest. "Where are your manners?"

The blur stopped by her bed and Claire felt like throwing up. A heavily scarred and skin still peeling Edgar placed a tight hand over her shoulder. "You're supposed to be dead," she said incredulously, barely keeping her panic from overflowing. "We watched the room blow up."

In what could only be described as a crinkled smirk in his mangled face, a corner of his mouth quirked up as he leaned in close to her ear. "You have no idea how I wish I could return the favor."

Claire flinched, scooting closer to the other side as another contraction started to ripple through her. "Wait, you're the one who cut her up nice and good?" questioned Sweetie, with an accusatory point. When he didn't answer she looked at Becky. "You never told me he was one of your new friends."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," replied Becky, feigning ignorance with top marks. Overdramatically she tilted her head to look at Claire, leaving her with the desire to pull her hair out if she wasn't nearly paralyzed with pain. "But from the looks of things, we'd better go now if we're going to be any good to her at all. Edgar?"

He zipped away and returned just seconds later with a wheelchair. Becky took a seat in it, patting her lap with an overzealous smile. Claire felt herself lifted up and half carried, half dragged to be placed on her legs. If she had full control of her concentration she would have extended her daughter's ability to dampen Edgar and Becky's powers, but the constant tensing of muscles made that, much less effective struggling, impossible.

She squirmed and shouted, but this room had been chosen due to its seclusion. "Leave me alone! I'm not leaving here!"

"Thank you so much for everything, Grandma," Becky charmed, somehow making that smile even bigger. "You have no idea what it means to be able to help her."

"You are going to take care of her right?" asked Sweetie, appearing somewhat uncertain all of a sudden. Panting, Claire reached out a hand in a desperate plea to not leave. "She's not going to get hurt?"

"Of course not," Becky assured, both bringing her arm down and grasping onto Edgar's to force him to remain quiet. "She's going to get everything she needs."

Sweetie blinked and looked around. When Claire looked down at herself she could only see the floor. Knowing that Becky had turned on her ability, she started to struggle and move again, but was rushed at high speeds through the hospital halls. Any vocal scream she made must have just seemed like a quick buzz through the air, because nobody stopped or turned to see what the noise was.

After several ramps and two elevator rides, they arrived outside on the ground level to meet Samuel. Becky allowed them to become visible again, then forcing her to get off of her legs. Thankful to not have to touch the psycho anymore, Claire tried to stumble away. Besides the fact Edgar would've had her in seconds, a devastating cramp paralyzed her. Samuel's arms caught her before she fell completely, a sensation that made her skin crawl with repulsion. She attempted to jerk her head away when he turned her face close towards his.

"Are you ready to meet our future?"


	18. Chapter 17

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Yeah, I only wish I owned it all…

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

A/N: Finally! Birth time! When I started this fic the scene between Sylar, Claire, and Matt back in chapter 8 & this birth scene were the two that popped into my head when I started this fic. So utterly excited I finally got to this point! Anyhoo, have a Happy Christmas & a Happy New Year if I don't get anything up before then. 3

So…ready for the angst?

* * *

Chapter 17

_Well no one told me about her, how many people cried  
But it's too late to say I'm sorry  
How would I know, why should I care  
Please don't bother tryin' to find her  
She's not there._

_~ She's Not There; Zombie_

As Sylar's eyes opened his vision remained blurred along the edges. Muffled voices greeted his ears. His appendages were heavy like lead. As this last detail became aware to him, he attempted to use an ability, any ability, but he discovered he was too drugged to anything.

Drugged? Was he drugged? Struggling to fight back towards reality, his head rolled back. Looking up with his fuzzy eyes he could just barely make out what appeared to be an IV bag hanging above him. Or it was a floating jellyfish. The idea tickled him to the point where he giggled.

"He's waking up, sir," obviously stated a man with a heavy voice. "Should we sedate him more?"

"No," answered another with a lower tone of voice. "We are running out of time and we need our answers now."

"Hey, look at us," instructed states-the-obvious with a vicious face smack. To make him look at them he pulled Sylar by the hair. Blinking past the black dots the hit induced, from what he could tell they were in a cement room. Judging by the leaky pipes it probably belonged to some sort of sewer. Or a pasta plant. Yet another idea that tickled him to the point of giggling.

The captors before him were both of average build, had darker hair, had tattoos budding out from beneath their shirt were of various designs, but a red octagon on the inside of both their elbow indicated a high probability of a gang. Or a brethren of buccaneers. Alliteration. As he giggled again he had just enough sense to wonder what was being pumped into his system.

"Give him more of the other kind."

"It might kill him again."

"Clearly not a problem," snapped another voice from behind him. Despite not watching Sylar could tell more was administered into him as his arm began to burn, a harsh sensation that worked its way to his heart and though the rest of his body. His mind was still unbearably twisted, but his alertness skyrocketed with the pain. "See, he can take it."

"How honest are you feeling, Mr. Gray?" inquired the man with the lower voice. Sylar clenched his teeth together in response, more at the fact he knew his name over the pain. "You may call me Mr. Foxtrot, the man next to me is Mr. Tango. There are a few men behind you, but their introductions will come as they become necessary to the conversation."

Mr. Tango leaned in close, enjoying the opportunity to burst anybody's personal bubble. "Where have you hidden your mate?"

Sylar only let out a hum of confusion, amused at how the vibration felt on his tongue. What the hell did they put in him?

"Two weeks ago she was at her residence, maintaining the same habits she had performed for months. And now she has disappeared without a trace. So this begs the question, where have you hidden her?"

"We can only assume that your relatively easy capture is a ruse in order to protect her, probably while she delivers," added Mr. Foxtrot. "Or is her labor complete and you are distracting us while they go to a safe place."

"So again, I ask the question," asked Mr. Tango, "where have you hidden your mate?"

Sylar rolled his head to the side trying to get a better look around while he pondered the request. The damned drug was blocking his capacity to process what was being asked. His inability to make sense of the most basic question sent him giggling again.

Mr. Tango stepped back with a frustrated grunt, waving a hand for someone to come forward. "Mr. Zulu, visual references, please."

Another man walked forward, his appearance similar to the two men before him. In his hand was a small stack of colored photographs. Mr. Zulu grasped Sylar's hair in his hand, forcing him to look up close at the pictures. "Here she is, just two weeks ago. At her normal residence, completely unawares of any of us. Then suddenly, poof! She disappeared without a trace, along with her neighbor."

Sylar sobered up just enough at the images on the photos. They were high zoom surveillance photos of Claire, the word 'mate' suddenly clicking in his mind. Claire on the street, Claire at the grocers, Claire getting out of a car, Claire by the window in her apartment.

The part that stuck out to him most would be the very large bump protruding from Claire's stomach in every picture.

He couldn't help himself.

He laughed.

Hysterically.

It started off slow and relaxed, but soon moved to manic uncontrolled noise that sounded strange even to his ears.

Mr. Zulu turned back in disgust. "This is getting us nowhere."

Replacing him, Mr. Foxtrot landed a solid blow across Sylar's face, but it did nothing except increase the laughter. "Where have you hidden her?"

Several more hits came in contact with his body when all of a sudden an explosion let off from behind, sending him and everyone else crashing into the opposite wall. The impact caused the IV to pop away from his arm, the intense burn fading due to his rapid metabolism. The chair Sylar was still tied down to had fallen so he was forced to stare at the wall they had been blasted against. While he felt his powers gradually returning, he could hear various shouts and gunshots from behind him.

Allowing the weak ones to be picked off before he had a turn, he focused on unwrapping the tape with his mind, thinking about what he had learned.

Claire, without question, was pregnant. That realization alone was one he was having issues dealing with. Why hadn't she said a word about it? Her lack of confidence wounded him, made him feel physically ill. He knew the unsettling sensation in his gut wouldn't let up any time soon. Who's child was it? The thought of someone else touching her made his stomach lurch in jealousy before coming back to the moment. These crazy individuals honestly seemed to believe the baby was his, but how was that possible? He snorted and formed a smirk as he finished with the tape on one wrist, concluding that since he had been made aware of abilities anything was possible. If it were possible, he would finally have a family to call his own.

Using the now free hand, Sylar unbound the opposing hand followed by his ankles. How could he have missed such a large detail? It bothered him that he had obviously looked over it the last time he saw her. She behaved oddly, kept her distance, and appeared worn out. He should have pushed harder. And for that matter, why was Claire's pregnancy a commodity?

Since the last of his inquiries could be answered in the present, Sylar rose finally properly observing his surroundings and who were left standing. They were in a sizeable side room of an old, underground electrical or sewer tunnel. Where the door probably had been was now a large hole in the wall from a small explosive, bits of dust and cinders still falling. Two of the men with the red tattoos had died in the blast, five more had been shot to death, and the remaining four were shooting at their attackers. There had only been ten of the other type of men. Despite their element of surprise, currently only two stood alive. They were easily noted by a deep blue triangle tattoo on their hand. Sylar couldn't help but feel these marks to be annoyingly cliché.

When another man from the surprise blue triangle group went down Sylar flexed his fingers so he might easily control the men who remained. The alarm and panic that graced their faces only fueled his actions. With a quick flick of the wrist all five were slammed into wall. Mr. Tango, three other red octagons, and a blue triangle regarded him with complete fear. Sylar lowered his head and smirked. He'd make sure they were afraid of him before getting his answers.

"It's my turn for questions, and I think I'll start with…" he took an extra few seconds to ponder, taking pleasure in allowing the future victims to sweat. Settling on one from the red octagon group, he pointed to the fourth man from the left. "You."

He allowed the man down to stumble to his knees just in front of him. "I don't want to go first, make him go first."

"What do people call you?"

"I-In the sect I go by Mr. Juliett," he stuttered out, a vein bulging out of his head. Sylar raised both eyebrows at the name choice. "I know, it sucks!"

"Mr. Juliett, I am going to ask you a few questions. If you answer my questions honestly, you live. For any untruthful answer I will rip out your heart and use you as a puppet to talk to the next colleague. Do we understand each other?"

Sucking his lips in tightly all he could do was nod. Sylar looked up at the others stuck to the wall awaiting their response. At their delayed affirmatives he turned his attention back to the man before him.

"Question the first, why is it you want Claire?"

"W – we – we want her baby – _your_ baby, not her," he reasoned, as if that would make things better. "We hoped to wait until she gave birth so we could simply have the baby. We figured it was less m – messy." A burning fury unlike any he had felt before simmered inside, but Mr. Juliett had told the truth.

"Very good," he stated, his voice sounding an easement that did not reflect his true agitation. "Question the second, why do you want…my…child?" Saying the words aloud for the first time felt foreign, almost unreal if the baby was really his, but this was not the time to consider that.

The man forcibly frozen into place still shifted his eyes around at anything but him. "It was our goal t – to…Um, I mean, we… _they_, being my now _former _group, want the baby to, uh, die." Sylar froze at this new information. In the past 10 minutes he had been through an emotional rollercoaster including confusion, betrayal, happiness, despair, excitement, anger. At this newest bombshell, the knowledge that someone already wanted this child dead, left him full of an uncontrollable amount of hate. "But never me! I never wanted to do the sacrifice, to ingest the blood of the infant, I was just doing what I was told!"

His vision shimmered and Sylar gave a hollow smile at the excuse to kill Mr. Juliett. Releasing the man he simply stood there blank faced, allowing the coward to make the first move. At last realizing he was back in control of himself, Mr. Juliett gasped in delight and began to run to the makeshift exit in the wall.

He didn't make it three steps before Sylar punched his back, sending the man's heart flying across the room. It slapped into Mr. Tango's face before falling to the floor, covered immediately by the other man's vomit. Before the dead man fell, Sylar gripped his chin. Turning his victim's face towards the other four men pinned he manipulated the mouth so it appeared he was speaking.

"Now, who wants to share next?"

X~X~X~X~X

Hiro Nakamura had been a voluntary prisoner at the Sullivan Brothers Carnival for months. And he was tired of it. Sick of being Samuel's errand boy for the smallest time manipulations, of performing quick hops to far off places for the obscure object, and all the while receiving nothing in returning except splitting headaches.

He was no closer to discovering the temporal location of Charlie than the very first day he had arrived.

Reflecting on this fact for the millionth time in the past months, Hiro kicked the dirt was he walked through the deserted pathways of tents. Stopping suddenly he shook his head. A hero doesn't get discouraged like this. He always looked to the future (metaphorically speaking in this case), focused on how they were going to make things better, and that the hero always prevailed in the end. A hero never gives up.

Waking from his internal pep talk, he saw the man he had been avoiding approach him quickly with an excited stressed face and outstretched arms. "Hiro, my brother, just the man I was looking for. You are going to save the day for all of us today."

Hiro pointed to his nose. "Me?"

Samuel threw an arm over his shoulder to briskly lead him in the direction he had just come from. "There is a pregnant woman here, an old friend of yours I believe, who needs to give birth. The problem is, her ability and the child's ability aren't allowing that to be a possibility."

Hiro's eyebrows quirked up in worried confusion. "Huh? But… I don't know anything about childbirth…"

The carnie leader let out a brief loud laugh. "No need to worry about that. All we need you to do is convince her this is the only way to save her infant and then freeze her long enough for another brother to complete the process."

They approached a tent where nearly every member of the family stood outside of, watching it intensely for something to happen. From within Hiro could hear a woman crying out in pain, begging incoherently for something. As Samuel pulled the tarp back to allow him in, an excited murmur rattled through the crowd as they pushed forward slightly to try and see in. "Please, please, patience," he requested easily with a calming hand in the air. Yet another tarp separated the much louder noises and when it was pulled to the side Hiro blinked in shock.

There were a handful of people hovering in the darker areas near a table bathed in a spotlight that settled in the center of the ring. The part that shocked him was seeing Claire Bennet laying on the table dressed in a very loose all white dress. Her wrists and ankles were lightly bound down to the edges, allowing for some movement as she writhed on the hard surface. Dark circles were evident beneath her eyes despite the red puffiness of her cheeks and tear tracks. Her face scrunched as her body tensed up again, letting out a cry of pain. The bit he couldn't help but focus on was the large pregnant stomach which pointed towards the ceiling.

"Cheerleader…" breathed out Hiro taking in the sight, the ties around her appendages evidence enough immediately supporting the idea that she did not want to be there.

"She's in labor, but she isn't dilating and her gift won't allow a C-section," explained the leader with a hint of a nervous edge. "This is why you must stop time to her so Martin here," he gestured to the appropriate man standing next to the table, "can pull the child out with limited damage to both mother and baby. But you must persuade her to have a little faith in all of us, which should put the baby at ease."

"And if I refuse?" he resiliently questioned.

This declaration momentarily startled Samuel, before he concluded darkly, "Then the baby dies, and Charlie can't have that."

Hiro gulped as he moved forward. Just for a few seconds the pain had apparently subsided as the blonde was left panting heavily. As he approached nearer she turned towards him, sweat drenching her face and hair. Her eyes squinted in confusion before she hissed in pain, "Hiro?"

"Hello, Cheerleader," he greeted with a small bow when he was close enough.

"You have to help me, we have to get out of here, please! This isn't right!" she pleaded, pulling even harder against her ties. The extra effort apparently doubled her pain as she froze in place, yet another yell ripping from her lips.

He took a half a step backwards at the sight of her convulsing. Samuel suddenly appeared right beside him, nudging him just a little nearer. "Now, Claire, you need to calm yourself, we talked about this." The mini episode passed as she glared daggers at him while panting heavily. "This is the best option for your great child. Now relax and just breathe –"

His advice was interrupted as a loogie splattered across his face having come from Claire. "Screw you!" she screamed. "Just wait until her daddy finds out about this, you'll all be sorry! Now let me _go_!"

As another spasm rippled through her Hiro reached down to grasp onto her hand, watching as Samuel wiped the spit from his face. "Get it done," he pointed to Hiro taking a few steps back into the dimmer light. Everyone present was keeping their distance.

Out of pity for the girl on the table he gripped tighter to her hand and scrunched his eyes up to stop time for her. It only gave him a headache while she continued to moan in pain. "Hiro, what are you doing here? We have to leave," she whispered in a raspy voice, conflict running through him from her desperation. "Please, I don't want them to get a hold of her ever, they can't."

"But they need to help you get the baby out," he explained calmly, hushed low enough that only Claire could hear him.

Immediately her eyes grew wide with fear as she shook her head back and forth vigorously. "No, no, that is _not_ going to happen. I'll go somewhere else –"

"There's no time," he added sympathetically. "Your baby will die."

Claire bit her lip and turned her head away as fresh tears flowed. "Why didn't he show up?"

Hiro tilted his head in consideration. "Who?" The only response was a head shake in the opposite direction from him. "Please allow me to help you, it would be my honor. I do not wish for anyone to be in pain like this."

"But didn't you know, Hiro, all births are just like this," she joked with a small grin before choking back another scream. He lost circulation to his hand for a few moments when she gripped tightly. Once she was back in control she nodded. "Don't let them take her away from me," she instructed, relief hitting Hiro. "I'll let you do whatever as long as I get to hold her as soon as she's born."

"I swear it," he promised. Noticing her relax just a bit he asked, "What will she be named?"

She blushed slightly looking down to her stomach, "I don't have one yet," she admitted. "Now what do you need me to do?"

He nodded, finally getting down to business. "Right, only relax and trust me. Allow me to use my power to help you."

With obvious effort Claire took several calming breaths, nodding when the tension left her. Hiro jumped at the chance, freezing her in place with considerable effort. Ignoring the sticky wet sensation dripping from his ear he nodded to indicate she would remain still.

The man, Martin, stepped up into the well lit circle. Taking a few calming breaths of his own, his hands phased into her stomach. Not expecting this to be the procedure performed, Hiro blushed and turned his head slightly away. A bead of sweat rolled down Martin's head as he continued to work. After perhaps ten minutes he began to tug upwards. A few tugs later, suddenly a screaming infant girl phased through her mother and was born into the world.

When the screaming child was handed off to Samuel, Hiro released his hold on Claire. She choked on a gasp of pain as her stomach immediately reshaped to her smaller form before his eyes. Nearby a laughing Samuel lifted the baby up for all in the room to see. "Our answer!" he announced in tears.

A cheer of success rippled amongst the people in the tent and reaching to those outside. "Let her see," demanded Hiro. When he got no recognition for his comment, he put on a serious face and stated louder, "She needs to see the baby."

"Please," asked Claire, still trying to reach up against her restraints. "Where is she?" Samuel finally took notice. While he approached, Claire continued to give muttered pleas. Instead of presenting the daughter to her, he placed the baby in a basinet of sorts just off to Hiro's left.

With free hands he clapped onto Hiro's shoulders, "You have shown dedication to this Family. With what you have been willing to do, the lengths you have gone to; you have earned a place in our new world."

Hiro scrunched up his eyes at the implication, taking a side eye at the squirming newborn. Lifting his arm he played with the healthy little girls hand that gripped onto his on instinct. From the corner of his eye he could see Claire struggling to lift her head to just get a glimpse of her.

"Now you are a different story," he expanded, taking a knee near her and leaning in close. "You and Sylar have done nothing to support us, caused us nothing but trouble; with the exception of the miracle child you two produced."

Sylar? Pushing up his glasses Hiro reevaluated the dark hair on the baby, sensing the power rolling off of her. Great Scott…

"Give me my daughter," she stated firmly, jerking against her bonds to make a point.

"She's _our_ daughter now," he clarified.

"How _dare_ you!"

"Families look after and protect one another. You have shown no loyalty to this Family therefore you have no place here," he explained as she continued her vocal protests. "We will move on, provide well for her, but you will remain behind."

Claire's screams and struggles redoubled in their effort as she desperately moved to become free. Samuel stood, took time to pat Hiro on the shoulder once more, and returned to address his brethren with a wave of his hand. The group of people started to clear out and pack up the makeshift hospital.

The scene before Hiro moved in a sort of slow motion. Everything he believed in up to this point came into question in his head. Beyond a shadow of a doubt he knew what was about to transpire in front of him was wrong.

Heroes never give up on their quests. His current quest was to save Charlie, from wherever Samuel had placed her in time. But given the situation before him, he knew he was going to have to reevaluate his quest. This mother, his friend, deserved to be with her baby. Any action he did at this point would compromise his original intent. He was going to lose Charlie, but it would have to be done.

Sighing to himself he realized he lost her months ago, but just was too stubborn to admit it. Losing love, again, seemed to be a theme among his favorite idols. Did Cyclops not lose Jean Grey on several occasions? Didn't Captain Picard give up Nella Daren for the greater good? Hadn't the Doctor sacrificed his people, his loved ones, to save the universe? Fate determined he would follow in their footsteps, take this sacrifice for the good of others.

Taking a deep breath Hiro took Claire's wrist in his right hand and the baby's arm in his left. "Hiro, what are you doing?" she asked quietly.

At her silence Samuel cast an eye over, suddenly panicked by Hiro's pose. He let out a shout of protest and the man who pulled the child from Claire lunged to stop him, but it was too late. Hiro felt his ability charge quickly and they popped out of there. However as he felt his power pop them away, something in his head simultaneously popped leaving a numb feeling inside his head.

He also realized his left hand was curiously empty.

X~X~X~X~X

In Noah's apartment Peter leaned to face out of a window, his fingers nervously tapping away at the glass. His niece had been missing for 5 hours. If she hadn't received adequate medical help by now it was likely her baby was dead. Sick of staring out into the blinking lights of night his fist connected with the window jam. "Why are we just standing around waiting for something to happen?" he snapped beginning to pace, an activity he had been repeating off and on ever since they had arrived.

With a locked jaw Noah stood from his position in front of the computer. "I've called in some favors, it would be reckless to do anything at this point."

Upon discovering Claire's disappearance, he and Noah had searched the hospital with no sign of her. Angela returned to her home to see if she could learn anything, while the other came to Noah's apartment with similar goals. So far, all that occurred was waiting with very little action. And Peter was becoming extremely frustrated with that.

"You could keep me in the loop, you know," he stated, crossing his arms. "I don't see why you're mad at me."

From Emma's position on the couch she hadn't been able to completely see the exchange between him and Noah, but it was obvious she had picked up on the rise in tension. The heat pack held against her neck was removed momentarily as she observed the nearly hostile exchange. Peter didn't blame her or Sweetie for Claire's disappearance, but only wished both had cleared out for awhile.

Sweetie returned with a replacement heat pack for Emma, taking a seat on the couch and wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder. Out of all of them, the older woman seemed to be taking her vanishing the hardest.

"You're damn right I'm mad at you," exclaimed Noah standing. "You knew she was pregnant and you said nothing!"

His head snapped back in shock at the unexpected accusation. "She asked me not to, I was respecting her wishes."

"She's a teenager," he objected.

"She's an adult," argued Peter. "Are you mad at me because I kept her pregnancy a secret or because she didn't confide in you?"

"And yet when she told you the paternity you grew violent and all but threatened her," he yelled, stepping closer.

"And I apologized for that," reasoned the other man. "But you're telling me you wouldn't have given the chance?"

Before the argument could escalate anymore, they were distracted by a pop noise from the corner. All four turned their attention to the two individuals that appeared suddenly.

A pale Hiro stood holding Claire's hand as her body landed on the floor. She detached herself from him and crawled up to her knees, looking around desperately. Hiro on the other hand smiled at everyone in the room with a slight bow, his eyes glazed and dark with blood trickling out of both nostrils. "Where is she?" asked Claire still looking around. That was when Peter took in her physical appearance. She wore a loose fitting white gown and her wrists and ankles showed open sores that healed as time passed, but the baby bump had disappeared.

"How could you have left her there?" demanded Claire panicked. Hiro's only response was to instantly crumple to the floor. She leaned over to him, grasping his unconscious form and shaking him. "I want my baby! Why didn't you take her too! Where is she!"

Emma moved to be at the prone man's side, but was hindered from helping him from the hysterical girl that was in the way. Peter went to attend to Hiro as well as the girl's father held her back. "Give her back to me! I have to find her! Take me back there! I have to go back! Please!" She started to scream incoherently, distraught by whatever trauma had been performed.

"Now, Honey Child, you need to calm down," instructed Sweetie, placing a soft hand on her shoulder. "Things are going to be better, you just have to come back to the moment."

Peter glanced over at them just in time to watch his niece roll out of her father's grasp and tackle Sweetie to the ground. He left Hiro to pull her off. "Claire! Stop!"

"It's your fault! All of it!" she screamed, digging her fingers into the older woman's neck. "I would have her if it wasn't for you! You took her from me!"

As Noah attempted to stop her, Peter dug through his med pack for a tranquilizer. Given her gift he loaded triple the average dose into the syringe, jabbing the needle into her upper arm. The effect was almost instantaneous; soon Claire was crumpled in her father's arms with tear tracks caked onto her face. Noah stroked her hair back while Sweetie choked and gasped for air.

"What the hell was that about?" demanded Peter, looking at the woman on the ground. She continued to cough as she shook her head in ignorance.

"We have to get him to a hospital," instructed Emma with authority.

Before assisting the other unconscious person, Peter placed a hand to her bare forearm. He could only feel the one power inside her. The baby, a little girl from her ravings, was now gone with no trace.

Now the question that would plague them was; where she was now?


	19. Chapter 18

Title: Forget Me Not

Author: Bunny

Rating: M

Disclaimer: As if this all belongs to me! :)

Summary: Set around Shadowboxing; Claire discovers an amnesiac Sylar wandering around and takes it upon herself to help him.

A/N: *peeks from behind tree* Hi all! I've said it once and I'll say it again, I am NOT giving up on this fic, it's just taking some time…Okay, fine a lot of time. I'm finally in the final semester of my degree (huzzah!), however that means clinical and written boards are rapidly approaching (boo!). As always, thank you all so very much for staying with this story. I only hope that I can keep up with your expectations. Just cuz it has been so long, you'll be pleased to know there's a little smexy smexy time included here. ;-P Enjoy and I hope to see you guys again soon!

* * *

Chap 18

_Hit me one more time it's so amazing  
How you shook my world and flipped it upside down  
You're the only one who ever drove me crazy  
'Cause you know me inside out_

_~ Inside Out, Britney Spears_

Claire sat curled up on her father's bed unmoving for five days. She was acutely and painfully aware of how time passed, second by second. She didn't sleep. She didn't eat. Her entire existence felt like one enormous, hollow void that was swallowing her whole. Her breaths remained shallow since the very act of breathing threatened to break her in half. She simply remained curled up, not acknowledging the world around her.

That being said, she was fully aware of every second that went on.

Emma often sat in with her during those first days, usually just reading text books. Her dad and Peter seemed to disagree on every course of action that was debated; everything from whether to take her to a hospital to who should watch over her for a time period to whether or not to tell Sandra (a ghosting of a guilty stab passed through her at that one).

To her it was just the same old repetitive arguments.

Sweetie came in to sit with her on the fourth day, despite Noah's objections due to the violent nature of their last encounter. Claire willed her to leave, or at the very least remain silent. She however didn't have the energy to lash out again.

"I know these words are coming too late," she began softly, Claire thinking she'd roll her eyes if she cared enough. "But for what it's worth, I didn't know what was going to happen. After her father's death, Becky has been difficult. Finding things that calmed and made her happy were next to impossible during her childhood. Then these brothers found her, provided a life for her, gave her a place to be herself and a purpose. And I know you won't exactly admit it now, but I'm fairly certain that's a hope and dream you once had as well."

Claire's stomach dropped as she spoke, wanting desperately to shut her out completely.

"You know I've lived in that apartment for decades. You and I meeting was just random fate. I wasn't a plant, I never wanted to hurt you, and Becky only asked for my help during the last three weeks we were there. I genuinely like you Claire. I genuinely like your man. And I genuinely was trying to help you give birth to your baby."

Claire stayed still willing herself to reject her words, but part of them reached through and touched her. In her mind, she shifted and paid more attention to her visitor.

"If I knew where your baby was I would tell you, Honey Child, but Becky hasn't returned any of my calls. As much as it absolutely kills me to admit, she used me."

Sweetie touched her hand, slipping a cool metal object snugly into it.

"Once you're better, I'm positive you're going to hunt them down, and I most certainly do not blame you. Before passing, my husband gave me an emergency bag that I think you'll find useful. There's tan safe in my bedroom; use that key and the combination – my birthday in reverse – to get what you need."

The repenting woman hefted herself up with a long exhale. "I'm going to spend some time with my own daughter down south. I get it if you wind up hating me forever, but I am so very sorry for everything that happened." Sweetie leaned in to kiss her hair before leaving. "I hope you get her back, Honey Child. Her and your man."

The metal warmed quickly in her palm, its presence burned into her. Claire wondered what the safe held.

The next day held another unexpected visitor. While her dad and uncle were out running down yet another inevitably dead end lead, Emma remained behind to monitor her condition. At least with Emma she knew there wouldn't be any hovering, any awkward hesitation or obligation to try and make her feel better. Claire was sick of the awkward way Peter and Noah used small, uplifting words in her direction.

So much to her surprise the blonde ice queen came to the door. Tracy Strauss opened the bedroom door hesitantly, her sudden stopping indicated to Claire she must look awful. She looked back to the other room before coming all the way in. She wore light colored designer denim and a classy goldenrod sweater top. Far too chipper an image for her current mood. Shifting on her feet for a moment Tracy slid into the chair next to the bed. Claire made no movements as she eventually settled in with crossed legs.

"Didn't know I'd be babysitting today," she began with a weak laugh. Claire didn't find it funny. "I was actually hoping to see your dad. Do you know when he's coming back? The girl out there didn't seem to know."

She didn't even twitch a muscle in her direction, just wishing she would leave.

"Yeah, I thought so," muttered Tracy with a deep sigh. "I don't know how much time I have before I'm missed, so I really need to talk to him. Long story short I was having trouble controlling my powers and I met this man who seemed to be able to help people like me, like us. It was nice at first, he sent me on trips to recruit more specials for his Family. I felt like I was reaching out, doing some good." Claire would have rolled her eyes, wishing not for the first time that she could completely become lost in her own mind. "But now he's becoming possessive. He moved his home, saying he finally learned a way to keep the Family hidden. He invited me to meet him, offered me a place in his personal utopia. But things are just…weird now. The Kumbaya fest has become more intense in the past few months, and now, even the compass he gave me won't work."

Tracy reached into her back jean pocket. She just stared at the object in her hand, not bringing it close enough for the silent one to see. "It just keeps spinning," Tracy continued. "Started about 6 days ago. Then I got a call from Samuel yesterday saying I was an invaluable member and if I was still interested to meet him, so he could take me to their new location. A permanent, hidden location."

Wait, what name did she say? Who had she been working with? The wheels in Claire's head turned rapidly as she absorbed the information being given to her. Everything seemed to indicate this was the man she needed to hunt down, the man she needed to make pay.

"Anyway, it's just something I though Noah should know about. If you can talk at all, tell him yourself," she finished, tossing the item she had been holding onto the bed. It was a compass.

Tracy stood, beginning to head out of the room. Claire starred at the object. It was useless junk now, but the woman leaving be able to help. Crawling out of the shell she made for herself she stretched out slightly, feeling her muscles protest at any movement. The former aid's hand touched the doorknob when she spoke for the first time in days. "Did you say Samuel?"

Her voice sounded as cracked as her lips and her throat was so scratchy it was an effort to speak. The other blonde startled at the unexpected noise, turning back to her. "Yeah, Samuel Sullivan. Do you know him?"

Fiery emotion hit her for the first time in days, the suddenness of it nearly suffocated her. Having her daughter's ability on his side, the bastard had completely disappeared off the map. Now here was the chance to find him. Make him pay. And get her little girl back. Evenly glancing at the other woman she stated with controlled anger, "I'm going to make him bleed so much he begs for me to kill him."

The other woman lifted an eyebrow, sliding into the seat again. "Now this, I have got to hear."

Claire shared absolutely everything that had happened since last October. Her long story explained Sylar's memory problems, the pregnancy, the resulting emotional rollercoaster, ending with her recent kidnapping and labor. The entire time Tracy sat there appearing absolutely impassive, part of her political training she figured.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Tell me where the Family is, and I can handle the rest," she instructed sounding absolutely hoarse, but undeniably giddy at her cooperation. "And don't tell my dad, or anyone else for that matter."

"You're going in alone?" asked Tracy incredulously. "Claire, I don't like that. You're emotionally all over the place and probably only going to make a mess of things."

"Of course I won't," she lied reassuringly, a cold itch that could only be described as 'revenge' racing through her veins. "I want to be the one to make the plan. If any of them find out now, I'll be left out of the planning process. She's my little girl, I should get to call the shots here." The other blonde ticked her tongue, deciding whether or not this was a good idea. "You know I'm right."

Tracy closed her eyes and sighed, tipping her head back. Claire held her breath as she decided. Finally she nodded, checking her dainty watch, "I will find a way to call you in the next 48 hours. You'd better spend the time preparing, because I get the feeling the Carnival still moves around quite a bit."

"Oh, thank you, so much!" she cried out, hugging her tightly despite the slowness in her joints.

She smiled, tapping her hair gently, clearly unsure how to handle the affection. "Just, go take a shower, Claire," Tracy instructed with a good natured smile as she left.

X~X~X~X~X

As soon as Tracy left, Claire waited for Emma to check on her before slipping out the window. She left a brief note expressing she was alright and took a cab back to her apartment building. Following Sweetie's directions she entered the cluttered apartment choosing to take Tracy's advice here and shower quickly, too many memories from her personal bathroom. She needed to remain as closed off as possible. Once finished, she headed immediately to the security safe.

Swinging open the minivault she saw a large black duffel and sizeable stacks of money. Ignoring the cash for now Claire pulled out the bulky, and extremely heavy, bag. Before lugging it to her apartment she took a peek inside.

Looked like Christmas was coming twice this year.

Inside was full of guns, ammo, and holsters.

Claire smiled for the first time in a week, before shutting herself down again. All the calm and focus she had built up during her near catatonia needed to stay in place until this job was done. She couldn't allow herself to emotionally lose control before she had her baby back.

The blonde entered her darkened apartment, welcoming the familiarity. Not wanting to draw any attention to anyone who may still be keeping tabs on her place she chose to keep the lights off. Flopping Sweetie's duffel on the large table, she took a moment to take a deep breath. The place smelled as though it had been unoccupied for weeks.

With a one track mind she headed back to her room. Stripping out of her old clothes, she donned fresh black ones. Black pants, black tank, black boots, black jacket, even a black hair tie. She didn't want them to see her coming.

Choosing to keep her hair down for now, she turned to her bed. Reaching under the mattress she pulled out the gun that Matt Parkman had brought months ago. The redness of her nails popped in stark comparison to the smooth, slate metal. Emma had given her a manicure touch up while she had been catatonic, a kind gesture on her part. Gripping the weapon tighter Claire grinned, actually excited to see the bold color if it meant seeing her daughter for the first time.

As she made her way back to the living room she popped back the chamber to check for bullets. Distracted by the object in her hands, a noise in the corner of the sitting room startled Claire. Snapping the gun back together she whirled it to where she heard the noise.

With his ankle crossed on his thigh, Sylar sat in her oversized chair appearing relaxed. At the sight of him, she hesitated dropping her arms before following through. He regarded her coolly, no emotion whatsoever on his face or on his body. Just looking at him devastated the inner calm she had built up, a wall of rage steadily taking its place. All of the anger focusing on him. And damn, if simultaneously she didn't want him. Just the sight of him caused her stomach to lurch in anticipation. So much for emotional stability. Still starring at him she spat, "I should just shoot you on principle."

"You think you get to take the high road in all of this?" he asked, seeming almost offended.

Claire set the firearm on the table with a snort. "You're damn right I am," she snapped, attempting to control her breathing. To keep herself busy while she spoke, she began to fuss with Sweetie's bag. "You never showed."

"Would you care to know where I've been since we last spoke?"

"Nope," she snipped, licking her lips. Methodically she removed weapons from the bag. A switch blade, a .45 Smith & Wesson, a Glock G21, a Walther P999, refillable ammo for each type and more. "Because you never showed."

He allowed her to continue to remove additional firearms, silencers, and ammunition at a relaxed pace. She could feel his eyes on her. Silently she dared him to make the next move.

Finally he settled on asking, "Where's the baby?"

The simple question stabbed at her insides, tore her apart, made her want to cry out; but after days of being an emotional blank slate it was easy to not physically respond. It was childish and stupid of her to try, but Claire looked at him simply and retorted, "What baby?"

She didn't have a chance to breathe before she found herself thrown into a chair, which was then roughly slid up against a wall. Her eyes flicked to Sylar who now stood with his hand slightly out, his face indicating he was in no mood for games. His eyebrows knit together in fury and his shoulder remained tense as he stalked closer. "I've had several enlightening conversations recently," he spoke finally. He held up a photograph for her to see. "Not even the most enlightening involves this here."

Claire sucked in breath upon seeing herself from 3 weeks ago in the pictures. Her heavily pregnant self. "Where did you get those?" she managed to croak out of the side of her mouth.

"I met sect of individuals called the International Civil Union who were keeping close tabs on you, very close by the looks of things. They thought I might know where you and your baby were, and I thought to myself, 'Claire doesn't have a baby'. But the picture doesn't lie, unlike you." He dropped it to the floor, anger rolling off of him in waves, his body language growing more and more tense and she wanted nothing more than to confront it. "They, and another charming group called TriTruth, were absolutely convinced that I was the father."

He paused pointedly, telekinetically completely letting go of her mouth so she would have the chance to reply. Claire sat quietly, not daring to look away. She'd let him have his say before snapping back. When she clearly had nothing to add, Sylar's jaw clenched tightly as he reached back and pulled out a small stack of photographs.

"I thought, 'That's impossible, there's no way that baby could be mine'. But it is, isn't it, Claire?" he asked tersely. He threw the pictures on the ground. They were the ones that Emma had taken of her constantly growing stomach with the time stamps on them. She sighed quietly, closing her eyes, willing the bubbling anger to become productive. "How is the baby mine?"

She quirked her eyebrows up feeling snarky. "If it's just now time for the birds and the bees talk then I guess you really did have a screwed up childhood."

It was a low blow after everything about his past he had confided to her, but she couldn't help herself. She felt it was her job to make everyone around her feel just as despair ridden as she, no matter who they were. Claire wasn't surprised when the chair she sat on crashed into the door while she was still on it, but the pain that radiated down her left side proved to be a shock. She cried out at the impact, then again when she popped her elbow back into alignment.

"You felt that," he observed, somewhat muted. Blinking, his energy was returned. "How did you fix the pain?" She shrugged nonchalantly, beginning to turn her attention back to the weapon layout. "What are all those weapons for?" When she didn't respond his hand collided with her throat, pressing her forcibly into the wall again, knocking the wind out of her. "Why won't you answer me!"

"It's to get our daughter back!" she screamed. As though shocked he let her down, only adding to her anger. She stepped forward pushing his chest as hard as she could, causing him to stumble back. "That's right, _our_! _Our_ daughter!"

Sylar grabbed her arms, holding them to his chest. His anger clearly defused in that moment as he asked, "A girl?"

Her fight instinct fizzled to nothing at the innocence of the question. "Yeah," she uttered gently.

"I have a little girl?" he repeated somewhat dazed, a far off grin settling on his features as she let her go.

A mixture of guilt and anger stabbed at her as she stepped back from physical contact with him in order to clear her head. "Where are they now?" she questioned getting back on track. "These two groups that you met up with. Where are they?"

"That would be four; those two, a mob boss, and a cult," he clarified with a threatening glint in his eye. "And they're all dead."

"Good," she sighed, relaxing just a fraction.

"Good?" inquired Sylar, extremely confused by her change of heart. "What happened to the no killing people rule?"

She rolled her eyes dramatically, starring daggers in his direction. "Did you really think the black bag and the guns were for show?"

Returning to her stash, out of the corner of her eye she watched him figure out the underlying meaning. She held her breath as she felt him come up to her, hovering just behind her back, his body heat radiating against her. He leaned near her ear so he could whisper. "Who took her?"

Claire's chest unexpectedly compressed as she hunched forward, her already bruised heart receiving another metaphorical punch. Immediately a strong arm wrapped around her stomach, the other across her chest to hold onto her shoulder. Sylar pulled her tightly against him, head resting lightly on top of hers. She clung onto his arms, feeling herself melt into him, taking solace in the comfort of the moment. In the end she sighed heavily, squeezing tighter into the embrace.

"It was Samuel, the Carnival, all of them." He let her go, turning away and pacing slightly back and forth. "They took me from the hospital when I was in labor, brought me to their camp. Then they paraded me around so everyone could see and put their hands on me. And then they took me to a secluded tent, tied me down for hours, before literally reaching in and taking her out of me."

With a frustrated cry of anger Sylar threw his hands up, sending her furniture flying to the opposite side of the room. She didn't flinch, wishing she had the ability to express her frustration in such a manner. "I didn't get to hold her, I didn't even get to look at her," she confessed keeping the sorrow out of her words.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he growled, spinning back to face her. Little electrical sparks danced around his fingertips, an outward expression of his inner turmoil. "I could have stopped this from happening and you know it."

"I called, you never showed up!"

"Before that!" he yelled stalking towards her again. "Even though things progressed quickly you had 4, almost 5 months to tell me about her!"

"Seriously?" she questioned back, refusing to be blamed for this part of the situation. "I found out right before Nathan's funeral, which you showed up to cause whatever kind of terror you could do. The next time you show up you admit you thought about torturing me. Then when I finally think I can trust you enough to tell you, you call telling me you just slaughtered a family. Excuse me for wanting to hold off due to your violent mood swings."

"You realize she's probably dead!" he screamed, power rolling off of him from his fury.

"What? No, she's not," retorted Claire confused. "The Carnival was worshiping her. She offers them protection and power; why would they kill her?"

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, not challenging, just verifying. "International Civil Union believed in the sacrifice of our child and that drinking her blood would cause them to ascend. The TriTruth's, their mortal enemy, were calling for her death simply so the International Civil Union could not get their hands on her. The cult seemed to want her organs, whatever the reason. At least the mob boss just wanted to kidnap and sell her for money. What would make you believe the Carnival doesn't have a similar bloodlust the others had?"

"Because Samuel really does want to protect his family, and she can only do that as long as she's alive," she explained through the wave of nausea at this new information. "He made it pretty clear that she was invited into the Family, we were not."

"She has an ability, doesn't she?" Sylar's brow furrowed as he remembered. "That night on the roof with Peter was because of her, wasn't it?"

Claire nodded. "A super powered force field and ability enhancer all wrapped up in a baby package. Part of the reason Samuel wanted her is because she can block other specials from using their powers to locate them. Their own tracker compass won't even work anymore."

"If she can't be detected, how do you plan on finding her?" he asked approaching, finally on the mind track to figure a plan.

"Tracy Strauss has an in. She doesn't quite trust them, especially after I told her what happened. She promised that she would give me a call anytime in the next," she checked her watch, "33 hours to tell me where the Carnival was now."

"And you plan is to show up, cause mayhem, and walk out of there with our daughter," he clarified still coming closer with his eyes growing dark, causing her more stirrings below the waist. "Just like that."

"Just like that," Claire repeated with absolute certainty, clicking the clip into place for the Glock. Giving him a hooded side eye she inquired, "Care to join in my retribution?"

His lips descended on hers and his hand came to push the gun to the table. Without any hesitation she followed his lead, letting go of the weapon and returning the kiss. She clasped onto him as he roughly pulled her head nearer. Playfully she bit at his lip, perhaps a bit harder than was necessary, causing him to growl. He immediately shucked her jacket to better reach under her shirt, digging into the skin that he could get his hands on. As she yanked on his lapel, relishing the almost pain from the pressure of his fingers, Claire could tell this was not going to be gentle; which was exactly what was needed.

Without breaking any contact Sylar sat her up on the table, almost mirroring their actions from months before. Only now there was no shyness involved, no curious exploration. This time they knew each other well, exactly what would drive the other crazy or over the edge. Their tops were quickly removed so they could feel skin against skin. Claire hitched out a gasp at the bulge in his pants bumping right up against her still covered center. Wanting it to stay there she wrapped her legs tightly around him, shifting a few times to gauge his reaction. Sylar groaned deeply against her throat before nipping sharply at the flesh there. She couldn't help the little cry from every bite, nor could she stop the heavy breaths as he continued them down to her breasts.

His mouth attached onto her chest, tongue rolling around the hardening nipple. His hands caressed her sides, the underside of her other breast, her back. She held his head in place looking down to meet his eyes as he continued his actions, her stomach dropping with desire the more they starred. "More," she hissed in request, one he was more than happy to comply. So focused on his face, she didn't notice his hand quickly slip in her pants until he slipped fingers in her folds. The shock from such a pleasure caused Claire to snap her head back as she emitted a struggled high pitched gasp.

"That's the sound I've been waiting for," groaned Sylar, twisting his fingers around inside for a few more moments. She considered coming back with something sarcastic, but the small motions from below and the oral attention he finally paid to her other breast made that impossible.

Her lust hazed brain reached to pull him out of his pants, but found it impossible to do so from the current angle. Whining, Claire tried to reach farther as he chuckled at her need, the vibrations against her chest running straight to her center. "More of you," she gasped out, pushing him back. "I need more of you. Now."

As if he were waiting for those words he immediately pulled her off the table to stand, immediately dipping down for more kisses. "Jeans off," panted Sylar, only taking his lips away enough to give the instruction. Still of blurred mind she managed to slide off the requested garment, noticing him mirroring her actions.

His aroused interest pressed firmly against her stomach, causing her heart to somehow beat more heavily throughout her entire body. Pulling his mouth back by millimeters, his eyes bore into hers, serving only to melt her insides more than they already were. "Are you ready for this?"

Licking her lips, hovering them over his, she replied, "Always." A small squeak escaped her as he twirled her around. Sylar placed both of her hands on the table edge, bending her over slightly. Excited at the unexpected turn of events, she moaned as she more than willingly widened her stance in preparation.

Hands gripped on the wood she braced herself for him to enter her, when suddenly an alarming coherent thought seared through her mind. "Wait! Stop!" she exclaimed, standing up sharply. For a moment he tried to put her back into the position, but stopped when she whirled around to face him. "Wait! Hold on, come with me."

Taking Sylar's hand, she led him to her bedroom. Leaving him at her doorway, she got on her hands and knees to look under the bed. "If this is about your avoidance of doing anything sexual near the table, you only had to ask," he offered with an amused grin, and a head tilt to admire the view.

"No, though that is still true," she admitted grinning right back. Finding what she was looking for, Claire stood up triumphantly holding a foil package in obvious view. "Personally, I'm in no mood to get pregnant again anytime soon."

He asked deadpanned, "You purchased condoms while you were pregnant?"

"No, _I_ didn't," she blushed lightly. "Sweetie, Peter, and Emma _each_ gave me the economy sized boxes. I'm pretty much set for a long time."

Accepting the package, he smirked while arching his eyebrows in a challenging manner. "That's what you think."

While he unwrapped the foil and rolled on its content she crawled onto the bed, wriggling her backside to taunt him. Claire deliberately licked her lips at the intense look he gave her. Tongue not even fully back in her mouth, he jumped into bed behind her, grabbing a hold of her hips. She squealed in delight, slightly tickled whenever his fingers pressed into her stomach.

Following his nudging, she rolled onto her knees propping up on her elbows. By the pressure movements on the mattress, she knew without looking that he kneeled from behind. His fingers made small massage movements against her lower back and hips, rubbing himself against her.

Despite the short break her body remained well prepared, his was also no exception. Though this lasted only seconds, it felt like torturous eternity. Claire's nails clutched at the covers, attempting to push back on her hips for more contact, impatiently waiting for something to happen. Knowing that he enjoyed making her squirm with need, she managed to stave off the desperate moan for awhile longer before giving in.

As soon as the noise escaped her lips, Sylar dove in. The newly reattached pain receptors in her body screamed out just as she did, but that intense sensation quickly mixed with pleasure. Pausing momentarily once he was in all the way, he seemed to observe her initial discomfort. Her eager hip thrusts assuaged any doubt as a rhythm was found between them.

Pressure built continuously inside and Claire dug her face into the pillow to muffle her desperate sounds. Without missing a beat Sylar tugged at her hair causing her head to tilt to the side, the pull sending an agreeable shock through her body. He leaned down against her back so his mouth was right against her ear turning her into mush, hoarsely commanding, "Don't hold back. I want to hear it all."

He pulled out as he sat up, making a displeased noise as he did so. She had just enough time to wonder what he was doing when suddenly she was sat up and whirled around. Now facing Sylar, he positioned her on top so her legs stretched behind him.

Before beginning once more, their eyes locked freezing all motions. For the first time they truly saw each other. Almost not believing he was there, Claire brought a shaky hand up to be certain; lightly trace his brow, his cheek bones, his lips. In turn he cupped the back of her head to where his thumb could still reach her cheek. "I want to see it all," he added, studying her face.

Leaning in to capture his mouth she started to move him inside again. He gripped her hair at the base of her skull to deepen the kiss with his greedy other hand exploring the rest of her body, not that her own hands were behaving any better.

Their tempo sped up and it didn't take long to return to a frantic pace. The sounds of moans and skin on skin filled the air, skin glistened from the work. She arched backwards as he attempted to keep her sitting up. Suddenly walls tore down in her mind as waves of euphoria crashed through, everywhere from her toes to hair ends could feel the thrill.

As her own ending began she felt him swell inside as he groaned deeply, his own body tensing with fingers digging deep enough into her sides to leave temporary bruises. Observing his reaction extended the time of her release. Shivers worked their way up and down her spine as she exhaled contented against his skin, pleased to see it so flushed. Just when things were calming, a sudden rush of emotion attacked her and Claire was left frozen.

"Please don't leave," she whispered, a tear running down her cheek. She was still wrapped tightly around him, shivering as the orgasm lingered. "I'm so sorry for everything, please don't leave me again."

Similarly Sylar still clung onto her, but his motions soon became lazy as he lightly rubbed at her back. He took her with him as he leaned to lie down on his back, tucking her snuggly into his chest. His lips pressed against her hair as she fully relaxed in the embrace. "Try and make me."


End file.
